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kaypeace21 · 3 years

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People seem to misinterpret what I’ve said in the past about mike “projecting his feelings for Will” on to El. So I’ll clarify.

When I say mike is “projecting his romantic feelings” for Will on to el. That doesn’t mean mike doesn’t care about El (at all) as a friend. Or sees El as Will (that’s not even how projection works -or what I’ve said). Although Mike isn’t perfect, he’s naturally empathetic and grateful for all El has done to help him and his friends. And he does see Will & El as 2 different people- despite the romantic projection. And unlike Will, he sees El in a more familial way- rather than romantic (despite him trying to force it to be romantic) .More on that later.Heck, Mike has already incorrectly projected his NON-ROMANTIC emotions on to 3 other characters other than El (it’s a pattern of his to project his feelings about one person on to another)- which yes I’ll also discuss.

I guess I have to specify what projection is -like i’ve already inferred in prior posts .There’s a difference between projecting “feelings” you have for one person on to another VS thinking those 2 people are literally the same person with no differences between those 2 people/or not acknowledging the unique personal relationships you have with both. This misconception is used as a popular counter-argument/strawman argument -rather than just debating the points i’ve made) . Ex) It’s like if you’re anger at your boss- but you can’t yell at them so you (subconscious or otherwise) are (unfairly) angry/irritable to your romantic partner later. It doesn’t mean you literally think your romantic partner and boss are 1 in the same - or there is no distinction between those 2 relationships. The same goes for how Mike views El and Will, despite “projecting” his “romantic feelings for Will” on to El (although Mike does so poorly).

Mike most likely projects his romantic feelings for Will on to El

In s3) he kisses El with a drawing of Will behind her head -that he can look at as he kisses her ... that should be an obvious hint he’s projecting (subconscious or otherwise) .

That’s Will -light brown hair/bowl cut, has fire powers like ‘Will the wise’.There’s also the fact that multiple characters in s1 mistook El for a boy (specifically Will) . Benny saying to El, “trying to steal from me boy?” Another man at Benny’s place mistook her for Will and said she could be “the byers boy... same height”. Hopper tracked El for most of s1 thinking it was Will. Homophobic Troy who harassed mike / talked about Will being gay said about El “ her head’s shaved she doesn’t even look like a girl”, officer callahan said “what’s Will doing with a shaved head?” The writers of ST are trying to tell you to pay attention to the fact el had a “ boyish /Will-like” appearance (and despite this- Mike was supposedly into her in s1). Then we had s2 byler parallel s3 mileven to show him fail to project his romantic feelings of Will on to el: Crazy together vs blank makes you crazy, , shed scenes: most important thing vs it was the best thing, Will & El calling for mike in the upsidedown (and mike coming for Will only), “they’re not in love they’re not even from the same planet” vs “welcome to my world”, Will having pics of Mike smiling on Halloween looking at him vs El having a pic of Mike glaring on Halloween, mileven paralleled to luke/leia & byler to king tristan/Han, byler paralleled to Venkman/Dana a ghost busters couple vs El just being a ghost and mike a ghost hunter, the s3 fight vs breakup and the various contrasts between all 3 (showing Will upset and El happy - and mike caring more about resolving his fight with Will than El- and never apologizing to El for lying ). I went into more detail here about the parallels between mileven/byer, mileven,stancy,Karen/ted , etc here.

And when he tells El “I can’t lose you again” It’s supposed to be ambiguous-cause Mileven like stobin is a straight bait. The fact is 2 prior times in season 2 (when mike was in the center of the group) he sadly watches Will as Will gets in a car and drives away.

Hinting to the viewer he’s actually thinking and worrying about losing Will (that 3rd time in s2 when he’s talking to El and seeing the cars with El/ Will drive away) . He once again is in the center of the group like the prior 2 scenes. And he already lost Will before and Will (like el) also had a fake d*ath. So yeah...we hear mike tell el that line and mike watches both El and Will leave in cars (and starts to cry) since mike knows that Will (unlike superpowered El) may d*e from his possession and he may never see him again. And it’s not like he can tell Will that line when he’s unconscious/possessed (especially in front of his friends) .

Just like in s2, when mike watches El and Will drive away .... he does so again in s3. And it’s similarly ‘ambiguous’, on who he’s upset seeing drive away. But, Mike turns to looks at the byers house, and tries to catchup with his friends (which has identically framing to an earlier scene in s3 of Will sadly turning to look at mike leave with El and then turning back to rush and catchup with the gang). Will turned around cause of Mike (not El) just like Mike turned around thinking of Will (not El). Just like s2,s3 uses earlier scenes in that particular season to give us hints about who he’s actually sad about driving away .

And in that moving away montage - it only pans to mike and Will .

And has Mike hug his mom in the same way he did in s1. Both represent moments representing him ‘losing Will’ (through his fake d*ath/moving away). Mike both times storms into the house and Karen rushes to him nervous and unsure why he’s upset , but goes into hug him when mike reaches for her (needing comfort). Unlike the mileven hug that’s outside and he doesn’t reach for her at all- she hugged him because she was worried (was he upset -sure but it’s not a parallel to the s3 hug). And they played “we can be heroes” for both hugs - cause both times mike lost Will.

And that s2 car scene where he talked to El (just like the prior s2 car scenes) was indicative of his fear of losing Will (not El). Which happened at the end of s3. It all ties together. Cause again , he was thinking of Will!

They even had several movies on the st list (altered states / children of paradise) have this concept of projecting romantic feelings of someone they’re in love with on to someone else. Altered states -has a guy just like Will hallucinate flashing to another dimension . People say about him and his wife “he’s crazy and she’s crazy about him”. And when they weren’t together she says she had to pretend everyone she dated was him (but that it only made her feel worse cause it wasn’t him) .And she says about doing so “’it’s crazy”. And her friend says “i think that’s how it’s supposed to be.” CAN THEY GET MORE CLEAR with the projection?

Heck, even El projects on to Mike. While mileven is separated between s1-2 she watches the soap opera (’all my children’) and pretends to be Erica kane (who in the episode El was watching) got into a rushed elopement to MIKE ROY (who was a writer).Aka she projected romance from soap operas/her possible crush of MIKE roy onto MIKE wheeler.And Erica/Mike weren’t endgame- even had a lot of st*liking after the break up (similar to El’s spying)

Mileven and Byler are very different- much to Mike’s annoyance. And Mike projects this anger of not being able to love El romantically on to Max,Will, & Hopper.

Mileven and byler are very different even if mike wishes he had romantic feelings for El (like he does for Will). Mileven is paralleled to hopper/el cause mike truly sees her in a familial way- both teach her the definitions of compromise vs promise (and make promises to her), say to eat “real food” and not eggos, keep her hidden away and safe. Both say her new look is “cool” and El in response to both says it’s “bitchin” and both say back “yeah bitchin”. Both claim someone is “corrupting” El (when trying to dictate her romantic decisions ) and Joyce/Max tell both guys they don’t respect El’s ability to make her own “decisions”. And El says to both of them “you lie” while Max says El should figure out what she likes and not simply listen to Hopper and Mike. Also similar to what she does with kali /Max (a sister/friend) El copies expressions from all 4 of them ( bitchin, i make my own rules , not stupid, mouth breather/friends don’t lie). Mileven is also paralleled to Luke/leia, and multiple people say El is like a “sister “ (lucas) and “cousin” (dustin) in s1. Even El asks before he first kisses her if Mike will he be “like (her) bother.”

In s2, Max (with the gang at Will’s house) asks how mike can still trust Will despite being possessed and in s3 max (with the gang at El’s house) calls out mike for not trusting El. “El has saved the world twice. And Mike still doesn’t trust her!”And instead of Mike admitting that truth -that he doesn’t trust El who he doesn’t know well (who spied on him) he projects all the blame/distrust wrongly on to max saying “you want to talk about trust ?REALLY?! After YOU made eleven spy on us!” And when max says it was el’s idea he yells exasperated into Max’s face “guess girlfriends don’t lie they spy!” He shows he’s aggravated with the fact El is so against lying but had no qualms with spying. But only yells at Max (not El) and he even tries (incorrectly) claiming Max is “corrupting” El and making her do things she didn’t want to do . Cause he’s still in denial and wants to fall in love with El- and doesn’t want to see any of El’s flaws that would make it harder to do so ( so he just projects that anger on to max instead).

And we know during the byler fight: Will calls El “stupid” but he was just projecting his own feelings about himself on to EL-since right after this he calls himself “stupid” 4x. So it’s likely when Mike yells back “El’s not stupid. It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!” Like Will, It’s AGAIN Mike PROJECTING his insecurities about himself (aka not liking girls) and his relationship issues with El - on to Will. Rather than an actual statement on Will’s se*uality. Sort of like Mike lashing out and projecting his anger about his failing romantic relationship with El on to Max .

The simple fact is el is mike’s safe option (she physically resembles Will but is a girl and thus he’s allowed to be attracted to her- in conservative 80s America). However, we see the more El develops into her own person and differs from Will in personality (plus , the fact puberty is making the distinction between genders more apparent) the harder it is for Mike to fool himself and project.The writers in s3 make a telemarketing joke just to have mike say “el, no, not interested” (aka his true feelings).Mileven in s3 was called “b*llshit” like stancy (which have multiple parallels and weren’t in love ). And nancy admitted to Jonathan (a byers ) she wanted to be with him the whole time. But ,despite that, got back with Steve (and continued to kiss Steve all the time, and even lied saying she loved Steve for an entire year) essentially mileven. Karen /ted also is paralleled to Stancy & mileven- who were “never in love” . Then , Max says friends don’t lie but “boyfriends (mike) LIE all the time” (aka he’s lying about his romantic feelings), and when lucas asks WHY he lied to el -it pans to Will (the real reason he lies to El about his feelings for her). When El asks “why do you lie” (he just is silent and stares up guilty). Lucas says about mileven (right before Dustin says they’re “bullsh*t” that “they’re lying”.And when he tries confessing to El, he never apologizes for lying and just used the similar ‘crazy’ line he used on Will (in s2). Cause if he actually stopped lying - he couldn’t continue to use her as a beard and date her/try and get back together. Plus he also fought with Hopper in s2 (’about El’) in WILL’S ROOM . He wasn’t actually calling Hopper the liar he was PROJECTING and calling himself “a stupid disgusting liar”out of self hate . That scene was foreshadowing his lying to El in s3 (about his feelings for her). He blamed Hopper for his feelings for Will cause he told himself it wouldn’t have escalated if El had been around to ‘fix him’ . “I BLAME YOU! NOTHING ABOUT THIS IS OK! NOTHING ABOUT THIS IS OK. YOU STUPID DISGUSTING liar, liar, liar, liar”.starts crying. And then it zooms to Mike’s crying face and pans to El (who he would lie to constantly the next season).

I also discussed in detail here how the bathroom stobin confession paralleled the mileven grocery confession- and again 1 in each of the couplets is gay. Heck, the “first i love you” plays only 2x in s3: when steve confesses to gay-robin and when el confessed to mike and kisses him and Mike doesn’t kiss back or say he loves her back. When she kisses Mike- it’s in WILL’S ROOM room AGAIN, Will’s old teddybear between them, as they kiss in front of Will open closet door) . in s2ep1 the lyrics are “just a little more time can open closing doors” (as Mike kisses El and it pans over the ‘Will the wise’ drawing & a rainbow-heart-Mike drawing, that blend together). But , In the same ep- when Will says he won’t fall in love the lyrics are “love that is new to you, you open up the door.” Later in the song it even mentions the “wheeler house”. So yes- after “a little more time” (3 months) mike and El kiss once again like ep 1- but it’s in front of Will’s open door and Mike is not feeling it- and it shows what is going to begin in s4 (byler). That after some time- despite the byler-doors appearing to ‘close’ they open up again after the mileven breakup/mike realizing the depth of his feelings and the fact he can’t ‘fix himself’ and be straight.El saying she loved him- and him not feeling any different after... was probably the catalyst for that realization.

Before this, we saw him project “his feelings” for Will on to El in romantic situations. But, he refused to integrate her into his friend group like his straight friends did with their gfs-unlike lucas with max, or how dustin tried to do so with Susie) . Cause he’s unfairly used El as a beard and wanted to compartmentalizes his friends and romance as much as possible (since faking it all the time not only with El-but with his friends would be exhausting).

Does he care about El- sure in his own flawed way. But, sorry (in my opinion) to act like mike” loves Will and El equally “ is kind of ludicrous . His actions show the opposite. And he’s only known El for 9 months as opposed to knowing Will for 9 years. And he’s known all of his other guy friends and the Byers much longer. What do they have in common?Are they friends ? Sure... technically but “friends don’t lie”. And mike has done plenty of that to her - so until they sort that out- and are honest to eachother- they can’t really have a strong foundation of friendship in my opinion. It’ll only improve once they start being honest and respect each other’s autonomy (aka stop dating and actually establish a friendship... and stop lying /spying on eachother). At the moment- Mike stunts El’s character growth and tries isolating her from the outside world, doesn’t respect her autonomy/ability to make decisions, doesn’t trust her in general, lies to her, and treats her like he’s her overly controlling dad. The relationship isn’t balanced or healthy (like byler or Mike and his other peers). In s1 he called her “a weapon” they could use to save Will (a lesson he appears to have learned from).But Max has to yell at Mike in s3 “she’s not yours! she’s her own person-fully capable of making her own decisions!” And EL says Mike treats her like “a pet” and “garbage”. So yeah... I don’t get people being ‘offended’ by me pointing out the romantic projection he does- and saying it supposedly ‘destroys’ the ‘beautiful relationship/friendship’ they have. Before I can consider mileven a “beautiful/loving friendship’: Mike needs to stop projecting and seeing El as a perfect beard to ‘fix him’- AND see El as her own person and NOT someone he needs to ‘take care of’ (cause he wrongly infantilizes her) . I think the 2 will eventually become good friends- and Mike will see he was wrong. But they’re not there yet- in my opinion.

#byler #byeler #anti mileven

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

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Damsels, Chapter Five: Work That Gameboy

By SisterSpooky1013 / Tagging @today-in-fic

Rated E / Read previous chapters here

Mulder arrives at work early, looking longingly at Scully’s car in the parking lot. Approaching it, he peers in the windows looking for…he isn’t sure what. Her car is, as usual, neat as a pin with no indication of where she went or why.

In his restlessness the night before, he’d thought a lot about why it bothers him so much not to know where she is or what she’s doing. If the roles were reversed, he would expect her to wait it out and trust him to take care of himself, but for some reason he’s struggling to do the same for her. He thought at first that it was her tendency to get hurt or need help, but by comparison he needs her help just as often as she needs his, so that doesn’t track. Then he thought maybe it’s that he doesn’t trust Skinner to do what’s in her best interest, but Skinner has shown a tendency to be protective of Scully on numerous occasions (and in fact Mulder strongly suspects his feelings for her go beyond the bounds of strict professionalism), so that isn’t entirely logical either. Skinner may have left him out to dry with the New Spartans, but he doesn’t believe the man would stoop low enough to treat Scully in the same manner.

In the end, he realized that it’s pretty simple; he’s just crazy about her. His protectiveness doesn’t have anything to do with how capable she is, or the situations other people might put her in, or even situations she might put herself in. He misses her, and cares so much about her that not even knowing where she is feels wrong. It feels like a piece of him is missing, and he’s not allowed to know where it is or when he’ll get it back.

After pretending to work for an hour, he sulks up to Skinner’s office and asks for a few minutes of his time. Skinner is immediately irritated, though Mulder doesn’t realize that it’s in response to him and not a preexisting condition. He stands in front of Skinner’s desk, looming over him.

“What do you want, Agent Mulder?” Skinner grumbles, not looking up from the document he’s reading.

“I’d like to know where Agent Scully is, sir.”

Skinner sighs heavily, dropping his head to his chest.

“Get out of my office, Agent Mulder,” he says in a low, menacing tone.

“Sir, I’m not asking to contact her, I would never compromise her case, I just need to at least know where she is. What if something happens and I need to find her?”

Skinner stands, looking Mulder in the eye with an intensity he’s seen on very few occasions, none of them fond memories. “Agent Mulder, Agent Scully explicitly asked me not to tell you where she is, or what she’s doing. Even if she hadn’t, I STILL would not tell you, however I hope that if you don't respect the direct orders of your superior, you might, at the very least, respect Agent Scully’s wishes. Now get the hell out of my office and do not bring this up again, understood?”

Mulder glances down and notices Scully’s keys on the desk near Skinner’s nameplate, her Apollo 11 keychain easily identifiable. He leans forward, putting his hands on the desktop, one covering the keys.

“Sir, if anything happens to her, I’ll-“

“You’ll what, Agent Mulder?” Skinner challenges him, stuffing his hands in his pockets in a show of bravado.

Mulder straightens, palming the keys as he stands, and leaves without another word.

Scully arrives at the club just before 2 pm, wearing shorts and a tank top as Angel had instructed. After stuffing her purse into a locker, she finds Angel and Tibet on the floor, which has returned to its daylight state of clean and quiet. Queenie restocks the bar while Ben fiddles with the sound system.

Tibet is up on the stage while Angel sits at the tip rail, offering pointers on a new dance Tibet is working out. Scully immediately notices that Tibet’s hair is cropped short and worn in its natural curls, and realizes she’d been wearing a wig the night before.

“So I was thinking that I could either take my top off just before or just after the first chorus, tell me which looks better, okay?” Tibet says to Angel as Scully enters and takes a seat beside her.

“Benny! Hit me with the music!” Tibet shouts, and then repeats her performance twice, revealing her breasts at a different point in the song each time. When she’s finished, she sits down on the edge of the stage in front of them and asks for their thoughts, her breasts still uncovered.

“I think the sooner the better,” Angel says. “They come here to see your body, so show it to em!”

Tibet nods. “What do you think, Desi?” She asks, stretching a smooth brown leg out to her side and leaning into it.

Scully suddenly feels entirely out of her league in terms of providing an opinion. “Uh, well, generally speaking I guess I’d say wait. You want to build some suspense, right? Make them work for it?”

Angel looks at her suspiciously out of the corner of her eye. “You don’t fuck on the first date, do you?” She asks with a haughty grin, and Scully’s eyes go big at the question. “I’m just messing with you, let’s get to your training!”

“Alright,” Tibet begins as though she’s done this dozens of times, tugging the straps of her shirt back over her shoulders. “So, have you ever given a lap dance before?” she asks plainly, and Scully’s cheeks flush.

“Well, kind of I guess. In college, though more as a joke than anything else. I would definitely consider myself a beginner.”

“Got it, got it,” Tibet responds. “Well, for the most part dancing is about creating a sense of intimacy. It’s fake, obviously, but the more your customer feels like you actually care about him, want him to look at you, like that he’s appreciating your body, the better you’ll do. Your stage set is just about showing yourself off and getting them curious about you. The real money comes from lap dances and VIP, and the more you can draw attention with a really great stage set, the more customers will want to spend time with you afterward. Angel is a beast on the pole and she can teach you all those tricks, but I consider myself the lap dance expert around here, so I’m gonna teach you that part.” She smiles and jumps down from the stage, pulling a chair away from one of the tables and gesturing for Scully to sit in it.

“Oh,�� Scully says, and sits as instructed.

“Sometimes, when you’re on the floor, customers will flag you down or ask for you, and that’s great. But you also have to approach people, because they’ll be too shy to ask. So you might come up and do this.”

Tibet saunters towards Scully with a secretive smile on her lips, stepping so close that her thighs thread between Scully’s knees. Next she leans down, placing her hands on Scully’s shoulders and bringing her mouth to Scully’s ear.

“Would you like a dance, Baby?” she asks in a syrupy voice, and Scully feels a shiver run down her spine. Tibet backs up. “Okay, now you try.”

“You want ME to do that?” Scully clarifies, and while just asking someone if they want a lap dance should be the easiest hurdle to clear, she’s finding that it’s still an uncomfortably high one.

Angel turns her head toward the bar and calls out, “Queenie! We need some liquid courage over here!”

Queenie walks over with a bottle of tequila and three shot glasses, pouring them wordlessly before returning to her task.

Angel holds her glass up, Tibet and Scully following suit. “To new career paths,” Angel says, and Scully smiles thinly, clinking her glass with theirs and throwing back the shot with a grimace.

Three weeks. She’s been gone three weeks, and not a word from Skinner. No update, no information, though he’s stopped by a couple times and asked, drawing increasing amounts of rage from his boss. He’s finished all the paperwork, re-organized the files, cleaned and rearranged the office (only to immediately change it back) and spent hours upon hours imagining where Scully might be right now.

He kept her keys, just in case, but knows she’d be unhappy with him invading her privacy by snooping around her apartment. That’s why he waits three whole weeks before he finally does it. He has a key to her apartment and could have gone there at any point, but her personal keyring also holds the keys for her gun safe and her mailbox, which may prove helpful. After work on a Thursday, he drives by and lets himself in, the warm vanilla smell of her immediately invading his nostrils as he opens the door. He sighs deeply, pulling her into his lungs; it feels like coming home.

First he waters her plants, which are looking half dead, and makes a mental note to use watering them as the reason he came here if asked. Next he opens her gun safe, and is struck to find her service weapon holstered and tucked neatly inside with the safety on. She doesn’t have her gun? What the hell kind of assignment is this? He brings in her mail, which is no help at all, and leaves it stacked on the counter. Next he lays down on her bed, shoving his face into her pillow and breathing the smell of her shampoo for a few minutes before he has the thought to look for her overnight bag.

Scully has a go bag in the trunk of her car for emergencies, but given the opportunity she’ll use her overnight bag and pack for the weather, situation, etc. Opening her closet, he finds it on the floor near her laundry hamper, empty save for a travel size can of hairspray tucked into a side pocket. In her bathroom, he finds all her toiletries accounted for, including her toothbrush. The more he sees, the more confused he is. Even when he’d spent time undercover with dangerous individuals, he’d been allowed to bring his own toothbrush.

Moving to the hallway, he picks up her landline and dials.

“Dana?” Maggie Scully’s voice answers on the second ring.

“No, sorry, Mrs. Scully, it’s Fox Mulder.”

“I saw Dana’s name on the caller ID, is she with you?” Her voice carries worry.

“No, I’m just here at her apartment watering her plants, sorry to confuse you. Have you been in touch with Dana, Mrs. Scully?”

“No, Fox, I haven’t heard from her in weeks. She told me she had an assignment that would take her away for a while and that she’d be unreachable, but I’m a little concerned that she hasn’t contacted me yet.”

Mulder closes his eyes. “I wish I had anything to share, Mrs. Scully, but I’m in somewhat of the same boat. A.D. Skinner isn’t concerned and it does sound like he’s in touch with her, but I was hoping she might have called you.”

“I’m afraid not,” Maggie replies sadly.

“What did she tell you when she left? Did she share any information at all?” he asks hopefully.

“Um, let me think. She said she was going on an assignment and that she’d be out of touch for a few weeks. And she said she’d bring me some Tastykakes when she comes home,” she adds.

“Tastykakes, what are those?” Mulder asks, his investigative senses tingling.

“They’re a treat we always get when we go to Philadelphia; little packaged snack cakes. The kids always loved them.”

“Are they only available in Philadelphia?” he asks, heart pumping.

“I’m not sure, but that’s where we always get them,” Maggie says hopefully.

“Thank you, Mrs. Scully. That’s really helpful. I’ll let you know if I track her down, okay?”

“Thank you, Fox. Take care.”

Setting the phone back on its cradle, he does a little victory dance. It isn’t much, but it’s something. Scully is just a few hours away in the city of brotherly love.

Three weeks. It’s been three weeks of practicing stage sets and lap dances in the afternoon, serving drinks in the evening and well into the middle of the night, and then sleeping until noon. Her arms and legs bear fading bruises from her acclimation to Paul the Pole, the crooks of her elbows and knees sporting slight calluses that help her get a good grip (with an assist from the grip powder Angel has instructed her to use). She’s given Tibet and Angel dozens of lap dances each, the other standing by to coach her on making sure one foot stays on the floor. After three weeks, she found that her barriers were mostly in her head. Once she was able to let go and just move, she’s actually pretty good at it.

That day she arrives in pink cotton shorts and a white tank top, now so used to being scantily clad that it no longer makes her self-conscious, and prepares to do a full dress rehearsal of the routine she worked up with Angel’s help. Queenie and Ricky sit down to observe what is more or less a test of her readiness, and one she intends to pass. Where she would have expected to feel nervous, she’s excited, ever the eager student motivated to impress and exceed expectations. Ben kills the daytime lights to make it look and feel like it would if they were open, and her set begins.

Moving onto the stage, she can barely see her audience with the bright lights trained on her. She quickly gets lost in the movements she rehearsed, feeling graceful as she circles the pole and hitches an arm around it, spinning in a feathery arc. When the point in the dance comes to remove her shirt, she does so as a well practiced step in a strategy, without any feelings of exposure. Soon enough her bra follows suit and she is left with only her tiny pink shorts, nipples hardening as they graze the pole. The undulation of her hips, the pop of her booty out towards the audience, the slip of a hand down the inside of her thigh; they’re each a part of the method. Precisely planned and executed in much the same way as she might dismantle and clean her gun, or prepare a slide for the microscope. It isn’t much different than performing an autopsy, she had reasoned. Except instead of: Y incision, open rib cage, remove organs, examine stomach contents, collect specimens, examine brain, it’s: arch back, grasp breasts, spread legs, thrust pelvis, rub thighs, grind on the pole. She’s always found her strength in taking a clinical, detached approach to difficult tasks, and that turns out to be just as effective on the stage as it is in the lab.

As she finishes, her small audience erupts into applause, standing in ovation as Ben brings the house lights up halfway. Scully smiles shyly, stepping down to join them on the floor as Ricky approaches her and slings an arm around her bare shoulders.

“That was fucking fantastic, Desi. Sexy as fuck. Let me see you do a lap dance now.”

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files #case file #case fic #x files fanfic

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gooddaykate · 4 years

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You Ain’t Woman Enough

Frankie Morales x Reader

Word Count: just under 4400

Tags: Pining, Fake Dating because Frankie has an annoying coworker, cursing, my roughly unedited terrible writing, I don’t think there’s anything else?

A/N: Okay, y’all. I wrote a thing. It literally would not have been finished without the constant support of @rzrcrst. I’m just going to put this here and yeet myself into the void. Let me know what you think. Or not, it’s whatever. Gif credit to @pascalplease (let me know if you don’t want your gif used, sweetie)

The bar was crowded and loud, but you still heard Frankie’s quiet curse as he pulled his cap further down over his eyes.

“You good, Frankie?” you asked with a nudge of your shoulder.

He huffed and curled in on himself more. “You remember me telling you about that girl I work with? The one who works the gate?”

How could you not? He had complained about Kelly almost as long as you’d known him.

When Frankie and his baby girl had moved in next door six months ago, you were fast friends. He had moved to the Rockies to be closer to his parents. He got a job at the small airport to fly the puddle jumper planes for the celebrities that came and went in Aspen. It was easy to fall into a camaraderie with him, talking shit about the people who came to play in the ski town you both worked in. It was just the two of them, and it was easy to offer help. Whenever he needed someone to look after his baby, you were the first to step up. He was quiet and kind, and always willing to lend a hand in return. He’d helped fix leaky faucets and a broken water heater. You hadn’t shoveled your own drive since you’d started watching Rosie for him.

You’d lost track of the number of times the two of you had sat in one of your living rooms just talking after Rosie was down for the night. You quickly learned that you could trust each other with the truth, so you shared everything. You talked through your quiet fears together. He knew about your relationship with your family and how you felt you needed to be close enough that they could visit, but far enough that they wouldn’t. You’d learned about his brothers, Pope and Will and Benny, and his time in Delta Force and the ptsd that it had given him. He had held your hand when you told him about the college boyfriend you’d had, the one you still had an open order of protection against. He had told you about how he used to cope with the ptsd, how he’d lost his pilot’s license, and the divorce that came with. You were angry for him, but mostly Rosie, when he told you that her mom had decided she didn’t want anything to do with her, either, and left her at his friend’s place while he was out of the country. On one particularly quiet night, Frankie told you about another brother and a trip to South America and how nothing had gone like it was supposed to.

The two of you were as close as two friends could be. You didn’t have any secrets between you, apart from one. It was easy to fall for Frankie and Rosie both, and you knew you’d keep that to yourself for as long as you knew them.

Kelly was a constant talking point and source of frustration for Frankie. You had never met her, but to hear him talk about her was enough. She asked him out every time she saw him and constantly touched his arms and back and shoulders. One time she even took his hat off and ran her fingers through his hair. When you asked him why he’d let her do that, he mumbled something about just letting it be and changed the subject. Most often, he would end his rant about her with a ‘this isn’t fucking Wings.’ You’d usually just smile and move on. But Frankie hadn’t talked about Kelly in a couple weeks.

You raised your eyebrow at him, and he pointed. “Blonde in the red sweater.”

“Oh, holy hell. That’s Kelly? Does she live in the village?”

“No! She lives down in Aspen.”

You watched her as she scanned the bar, presumably looking for an open spot. Sitting in the darkest corner table would hopefully be your saving grace. When she passed over a couple seats at the bar and a few empty tables, something occurred to you.

“You don’t think she came up this way just to find you, do you?”

“Knowing her, I wouldn’t put it past her. Fuck.” Frankie took a large breath in and started talking. “Look, there’s something I didn’t tell you. I was hoping it’d never come up, but here we are. I got her to stop asking me out a couple weeks ago by saying I had been seeing someone for the last six months. And I may have mentioned it was you because I’ve got pictures with you and it was easy. And I know this sucks because we’re friends and all, but if you could just, I don’t know, hold my hand until she leaves? Please?”

You were stunned silent for a moment, and he couldn’t meet your eyes. Before you could respond, Kelly’s eyes found Frankie and she started making her way over.

“Shit, she’s seen you.”

You leaned in and took his hand. “I’ve got you, Frankie,” you whispered as you brushed a chaste kiss across his cheek. “Whatever you need.”

He raised his desperate eyes to yours in a quiet thanks, and you tore yours away from him to watch Kelly walk to your table. She was conventionally beautiful, with long blonde hair falling in waves down her back. Her jeans were so tight they looked uncomfortable and the red sweater she wore was cut low enough that you knew it was never intended as anything heat retaining.

You turned back to find Frankie’s eyes on you, eyebrows pulled low in concern. Without thinking, you raised your free hand to his face and smoothed the crease between his eyebrows before bringing it back down and cupping his cheek.

“It’ll be fine, Frankie. What’re friends for?”

He didn’t get a chance to say anything before Kelly had draped herself over him, making you jump and move your hand away from his face.

“Oh my god, Francisco! I didn’t know you’d be here! What a coinkydink!” She gave him an exaggerated wink and moved her body away from him, but kept her hands around his bicep.

His whole body was tense and his tone was clipped when he responded.“Yeah, well, I told you I was getting drinks with my girlfriend tonight, and that’s why I couldn’t go out with you. This is one of very few options, Kelly.”

“Oh, right. Well who’s got little Rosalina tonight if your neighbor is here with you?”

“We got a sitter,” Frankie all but mumbled.

Her eyes widened. “Wow, it’s the royal we, now?” she asked with an air of mocking incredulity.

She still hadn’t looked at you, or even acknowledged that you were there, apart from her emphasis on knowing that you lived next door to him. You gave his hand a squeeze and spoke up.

“Has been for the last couple of months, actually.”

She finally turned to look at you, a purse on her lips and heavy disdain in her eyes. You flashed her a smile and introduced yourself.

She held her hand out loose and palm down, like she expected you to kiss it. “Kelly.”

You gripped her hand and gave it a firm shake. “Oh, I’m well aware. It’s good to put a face to the many stories I’ve heard.”

Kelly dropped your hand and draped herself across Frankie’s shoulder again, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

“Francisco! You talk about me at home? What does little Rosalina think?”

Frankie was three stages of red and trying to peel her off of himself, but she kept latching on. “Kelly, Rose isn’t even a year, she doesn’t think about you.”

She let him go and pouted, like she was the baby. “But if you talk about me-”

“I don’t talk to my daughter about you.”

You had to cover up your laugh with a startled cough. Kelly’s eyes turned to you as she sat down in the third chair at the table.

“So you’re the girlfriend, then?”

You laughed and squeezed Frankie’s hand. “Yeah, I guess you could call me that. I mean, he certainly does.”

“The prospect of seeing her makes it easy to get up in the morning.” He chuckled. “You know, besides having an infant in the house.”

Kelly hummed and rolled her eyes. “Right. So, Francisco, tell me, why is it just you and little Rosalina?”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Kelly, that’s deeply personal and none of your business.”

Frankie brought you entwined hands up to kiss the back of yours. “That’s okay, cariño. I don’t mind.” He put your hands back on the table and turned to Kelly. “Her mom and I were in the process of getting divorced before Rosie was actually born. We just,” he trailed off and looked at you. You gave him a soft smile and squeezed his hand for him to continue. “We just weren’t right for each other. About a month after she was born, I took a trip to South America, and when I came back a week later, I found out that she decided she’d rather not be a mom, either. She left Rosie and the completed divorce paperwork with my buddy’s wife and took off. I haven’t actually seen or heard from her, since. After that, it was a stupidly easy decision to move back up here. My parents live in the village, so they could help out with their granddaughter and I’d have a support system that was more than a pair of brothers. One of whom beats people up for a living.”

He shrugged. “It was the best decision I could’ve made.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

He smiled. “I moved back to Colorado and found her.” He squeezed your hand again. “I wasn’t looking for it, but I fell in love again. I was lucky. And I couldn’t be more thankful for that.I love her almost as much as I love my daughter.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you had to remind yourself that this was for show. Obviously Frankie didn’t actually love you, he was just telling Kelly that he did. As far as she knew, you’d been dating for six months. Of course you would have said you loved each other.

You figured that it would be easiest to just give the partial truth, so you smiled. This was the easiest part you would ever have to play. “I’m definitely the lucky one. He moved in next door and it was completely impossible not to fall in love with them. I’m still sure that I’m going to wake up and it will all have been some kind of dream.”

Frankie turned to look at you, and the amount of love you could see in his eyes made you suck in a breath. “Te quiero con todo mi corazón.”

You knew you had to swallow down the emotion that brought up, but damn, if that didn’t bring butterflies to your stomach. It was just too much, having Frankie talk about your nonexistent romance. The feeling of his hand in yours, every brush of his leg, all the lovely words he used to describe a love you didn’t share. You just needed to get away for a moment.

“You’re the sweetest. Right. Excuse me for a minute.” You leaned over to kiss his cheek, and met Frankie’s eyes with a sad smile and a silent apology.

Once you pushed your way through the mass of people hovered by the bar, you leaned on the counter and looked at yourself in the bathroom mirror.

“What the hell am I doing? Why did I agree to that?” You hung your head low and let out a heavy sigh.

The door opened and the loud sounds from the bar interrupted your thoughts. When you straightened up to leave, you took one last look in the mirror and noticed Kelly standing behind you with her arms folded across her chest. When you made eye contact, a slow smile spread across her face. The look in her eyes made you shiver before you turned to face her.

She took a step closer. “Let’s just cut to the chase, shall we? I know you’re in love with Francisco.”

A startled laugh bubbled up out of your chest. It took a moment for you to respond because you weren’t sure if she was serious. “Of course I’m in love with Frankie. It would be impossible not to be completely in love with him and Rosie, both.”

Kelly raised one eyebrow and smirked before continuing. “Oh, I know that’s true. But I also know that you and Francisco aren’t actually dating. You’re just his neighbor and occasional babysitter. You can drop the act.”

You blinked in surprise, eyebrows shooting up your forehead. “Excuse me?”

“I know Francisco isn’t seeing you.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not following. How’d you come to that conclusion?”

Her eyes still hadn’t left yours, and it seemed like she wasn’t even blinking. “You know, when Francisco first told me that he was dating you, I was massively jealous.”

You rolled your eyes and let out a huff. “You don’t say.”

She ignored you and kept talking. “But I started watching him. I came up to Snowmass and asked around. I’ve watched the two of you together. I’ve seen you with Rosalina. I know you’re not a couple. I don’t know why Francisco thought he needed to make up some girlfriend and then pawn it off on someone who he clearly has no actual feelings for.”

You were horrified. “You’ve been watching him and Rosie?”

“Oh, I just needed to see who my Francisco was spending his time with. Now that I know that I don’t actually have to worry about him having feelings for you, he can go back to being my Francisco. I can’t believe you’re still carrying a torch for him when he clearly doesn’t care for you.” She backed away and looked down at her fingernails. “I mean, come on, you’ve clearly been in love with him for longer than I’ve been watching.”

Kelly’s face was smug, like she knew she was in your head. But you were focused on the more important part of her little speech.

You started out slow, to make sure she caught that you’d understood her. “So, just to be clear, you’re admitting to actively stalking Francisco Morales and his daughter.”

“What, that’s not-”

“That’s what you’ve just said. You said you started watching him. That you have watched his home, and his daughter, and who they’re spending time with. You’ve asked about him in the town that he lives in. You made a trip out of the way of where you live, just feign accidentally running into him and to corner me. Did you go to his house before you came here?”

“I am not stalking Francisco. That’s not what this is,” she spluttered.

“Oh? Then tell me exactly what this is, Kelly.”

She opened and closed her mouth like a fish, trying to come up with something. After a few moments of letting her flounder, she finally stepped forward and pointed her finger in your face.

“We work together! I’m not stalking Francisco! Even if that was true, you have no proof,” she seethed through clenched teeth.

A scary sort of calm washed over you. You had experience here. You could help Frankie and Rosie both.

“Get your finger out of my face, Kelly.” It took her a couple seconds, but she did drop her hand. If looks could kill, you’d have been dead three times.

“How careful were you to stay hidden when you were spying on Frankie’s home, Kelly?”

“That’s- I don’t-”

“That’s okay, Kelly. I have security cameras around my property. And we can certainly find testimony of the people you talked to. And I’m sure the airport staff would vouch for how uncomfortable you make Frankie on a daily basis. It’s easy enough to request a restraining order. Do you suppose that’s enough proof?”

Kelly’s eyes were wide and the fear you could see brought a slow smile to your face.

“We could probably even issue a protective order, since you have actually admitted to me, one of his child’s caregivers, that you’ve been actively stalking her and her father.”

Her eyes were panicked, and before anything else could be said, she was out the door. You took a deep breath and leaned back against the counter.

“What the fuck.”

A stall opened, and you startled. A young woman stepped out holding her phone. “I recorded that whole conversation. Do you want me to send it to you?”

Your brows furrowed. “I’m sorry?”

“I recorded what she was saying. Do you want me to send it to you?”

“Oh, uh,” you ran a hand down your face. “Yes, please. How much did you get?”

Her smile was sheepish when she handed you her phone. “Well, I hit record when she said she knew you were in love with him. I thought it was going to be a drunk girl confrontation that I could laugh about with my friends. Now I’m just kind of glad I’m a nosy bitch.”

You chuckled as you typed your number in. “No kidding. Thank you for having the insight to record, I guess. I don’t know what will come of it, but if he does decide to pursue something, we may need you to give some sort of statement.”

“All good. I figured. Just keep my number for if you need it.” She placed a hand on your shoulder and sent a comforting smile your way before leaving the bathroom.

You took a shaky breath and headed back to your table.

“What the hell did you say to her? She just took her bag and left, didn’t even say bye.”

You sat down and took his hand in yours. His eyes crinkled as he smiled. “You don’t have to do that anymore, she’s not here.”

“Frankie, what I’m about to say isn’t something nice.”

He interrupted you with a laugh. “I’d be surprised if you did have anything nice to say. She’s a lot.”

With a sigh, you looked down at your hand in his, and brought your free hand up to cover your entwined fingers. “No, Frankie. It’s really not good. Kelly…” you trailed off, unsure whether to sugar coat or just come right out and say it.

“Sweetheart, just talk. It’s me.”

Your eyes met his and you made your decision. “Frankie, Kelly has been stalking you and Rosie.”

The color drained from his face. “No. Kelly’s just a nuisance. She’d never go that far.”

“Frankie, she just cornered me in the bathroom to tell me that she knows we aren’t dating because she’s been watching you. There was another woman in a stall and she recorded it. She’s been watching me with Rosie and asking about you in the village.”

“Oh god, my baby. Would she have hurt my baby?”

His eyes were desperate again, but this time, holding his hand wouldn’t help. “I don’t know, Sweetie. I don’t know. You wait here, and I’ll pay our tab and we can go home so you can hold Rosie. You’ll be able to put your baby to bed and then we can talk about this more, if you want, okay love?”

Frankie’s eyes were glazed over with tears and he looked almost catatonic when you got back to him.

“Come on, sweetheart, let’s get you up so we can start walking home. Just a few minutes longer and you’ll have your baby girl in your arms. It’ll be okay, Frankie. I’ll help you however you need.”

The short walk back to your houses was quiet, your arm around his. Every time you looked at Frankie’s face, you saw the fear in his eyes, and you knew that he was imagining the worst-case scenario when you got home. He was afraid that he was going to walk in and find his daughter missing. A part of you was also afraid you were going to find that.

When you walked into the door to see Taylor sitting on the sofa with Rosie on her lap, you let out a sigh of relief. You could see Frankie visibly relax, his shoulders releasing some of the tension he’d let build up on the walk home.

“Oh, you’re home early. Is everything okay?”

Rosie’s chubby hands were reaching for her father, and he moved to take her into his arms. You sent a subtle shake of your head to her, and she nodded.

“Well, Mr. Morales, she was an absolute delight, as always.”

Frankie only hummed in response, Rosie tucked into the crook of his neck, lightly playing with the curls at his ear.

You gestured over to the door and reached for your wallet. “I don’t know how much he pays you, honey, but this is all the cash I’ve got.”

Taylor looked at you with wide eyes. “I wasn’t even here for an hour, though! You don’t have to do that.”

You put both twenties in her hand and then raised yours in surrender. “Oh, no, shucks, it’s in your possession, now, you can’t give it back.”

She smiled and shook her head. “Okay, then. Thank you.” She turned to where Frankie was standing. “Bye, sweet Rose. Anytime you guys need me, let me know. I just love her to pieces. Have a good rest of your evening, Mr. Morales.”

Frankie just nodded his head at her and went back to loving on his daughter.

“Thanks, hon. Have a good night. Drive safe,” you whispered as she walked out of the house. You locked the door behind her and turned back to Frankie. “You want me to hang out here for a bit?”

“Please. I’m going to put her down here in a couple minutes.”

You sat on the couch and tried to busy yourself on your phone, but your eyes kept drifting back to Frankie. He had Rosie resting on his shoulder just quietly rocking her in his arms. Her eyes were falling shut, but was fighting sleep because she’d startle awake every so often. Once she was out, Frankie looked at you. “Okay, I’m going to put her down. I’ll be right back.”

When he came back out to the living room, he sat down next to you on the sofa. “Okay. You said something about a recording?”

“Yeah, there was a girl in one of the stalls. She thought it was going to be something funny she could share with her friends so she started a voice recording.”

“Let’s hear it, I guess.”

You put your hand on his knee. “Frankie, we don’t have to listen to this right now. We can go over this in the morning, if you want. I don’t want you to lose sleep.”

He shook his head. “No, I’m already not going to sleep well. I’d rather just listen now.”

“Okay, sweetie,” you sighed. You opened the text and pressed play.

The tail end of your nervous laugh sounded and your stomach dropped. You’d forgotten that about what else Kelly had said. You just had to hope that Frankie focused on Kelly like you had.

“‘Of course I’m in love with Frankie. It would be impossible not to be completely in love with him and Rosie, both.’”

As Kelly continued talking in the recording, you just watched Frankie’s face. You usually didn’t have a hard time reading him, he was someone who rarely hid his emotions, but right then he just looked impassive.

“‘I mean, come on, you’ve clearly been in love with him for longer than I’ve been watching.’”

You could feel your face heating up.

Frankie reached over and paused the recording. “Is that true?”

You closed your eyes. “Frankie, I-”

“Dulzura, please. You have to know. How could you not?”

You looked into his eyes, but you still couldn’t make out the emotion in them. “Know what, Frankie?”

“Cariño, everything I said tonight,” he trailed off. He took his hat off and ran his hand through his hair. “Do you even know how much you mean to me?” he whispered.

“Of course. I help out with Rosie. We’re friends.” Just saying that out loud brought a lump to your throat. There were tears in your eyes threatening to spill, so you looked up toward the ceiling.

Frankie reached out and took your face in his hands, tilting it back down to look at him. A tear fell and he brushed it away with his thumb. “Dulzura, you mean so much more to me than just friends. Everything I said tonight was true. I wasn’t looking for love when I moved back here. I wanted a quiet neighborhood where I could raise my daughter near her abuelos. But love found me anyways.”

You could feel your lip quiver. “Really?”

Frankie smiled and brought his forehead to rest on yours. “Te quiero con todo mi corazón, mi amor,” he whispered.

“I love you, too, Frankie. With all of my heart.”

He brought his lips up to place a kiss on your forehead. “You sure you want to do this, cariño? You know all my baggage. You know how tough it will be.”

You let out a watery laugh. “Francisco Morales, you are the easiest man to love. You are kind and selfless. You’re stubborn. You love that baby of yours so, so much. It was so easy to fall for you. I’ve loved you since that first night we sat and talked right here.”

“Funny, that’s the night I knew, too. And the first night I bitched about Kelly.”

You groaned and looked down at your phone. “It can wait, cariño. It can wait.”

You looked back up at him and smirked. “You haven’t even kissed me, yet, Francisco.”

Frankie hummed and brushed a bit of hair away from your face and smiled. “You’re right, I haven’t. You are so beautiful, cariño.”

He leaned in close enough that your noses brushed. “May I?” he whispered.

Your answering ‘please’ was barely audible, but he closed the distance anyway.

Frankie was right. He loved you, so everything else could wait until morning.

#Frankie Morales x reader #triple frontier fanfiction #i don't even know what to put here #don't mind me

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clovermunson · 3 years

Text

hphl character sheet

4/??

yeah so the “no more ocs” thing? that was a total lie, forgive me for that😂 and i’m so proud to introduce my first male oc!!

some lovely moots that may be interested: @kc-and-oc @catohphm @thatravenpuffwitch @slytherindisaster @cursebreakerfarrier @danceworshipper

Name: Augustus “Auggie” Benedict Grant

Nicknames: Ben, Auggie, Benny (only by his sisters and mother)

Birthdate: July 28th, 18—

Zodiac Sign: Leo

Personality Type (MBTI): ENFJ— The Protagonist

Blood-Status: Half-Blood (Pureblood father, muggleborn mother)

Nationality: British

Physical Appearance

Hair: dark blonde

Eyes: blue-green

Height: 6’1”

Weight: 188 lbs.

Body Type: tall, lean and muscular, athletic

Skin Tone: light, easily tans

Distinguishing Marks (scars, birthmarks, etc.):

from childhood/teenage years

scar on left knee from falling into his mother’s rose bushes in the flowerbed

scar above right eyebrow from running into the fence of the horse pen

scar on right forearm from a quidditch injury in 5th Year

acquired in adulthood

scar on the back of neck from a cursebreaker mission in Scotland

scar on right shoulder/back from being attacked by a Sphinx

feint burn mark on left forearm from a dragon, acquired during a mission in Norway

Background

Hometown:

Bucklebury, England (from birth—age 18)

London, England (from age 18—34)

Sunningdale, England (ages 34—??)

Family

Mother

Alice Grant née Blackburn was a muggleborn witch, and the second daughter to Dorothy and Arnold Blackburn. She would be sorted into Ravenclaw upon arriving at Hogwarts, and later become Prefect and Head Girl. After leaving Hogwarts, she would become a Muggle Relations specialist for the Ministry of Magic, and a bookshop keeper upon her retirement.

Father

Howard Grant was the eldest son of Martha and Douglas Grant. He would attend Hogwarts and be sorted into Gryffindor, later becoming a Cursebreaker for Gringotts Wizarding Bank, and then go on to become Head Cursebreaker. When he retired, he became a bookshop keeper alongside his wife, Alice.

Sisters

Charly and Maggie Grant are Auggie’s little sisters. There isn’t much he wouldn’t do to keep both of his sisters safe, and he’d always be on their side until the very end. Though his sisters are sorted into Hufflepuff, that doesn’t stop him from making sure everyone knows who their big brother is. Charly would go on to become a Magizoologist and later Hogwarts Professor, and Maggie would become an Author and Historian.

Hogwarts

House: Gryffindor

Best Class: Defense Against the Dark Arts

Worst Class: Divination. No seriously, poor guy can’t read tea leaves to save his life.

Quidditch: Beater for the Gryffindor Quidditch Team from 2nd—7th Year

Clubs: Dueling Club

Boggart: the corpses of his sisters, bloodied and zombie-like

Riddikulus: the corpses become porcelain dolls, each one with characteristics of his sisters

Patronus: Lion

Patronus Memory: the first family Christmas with both of his sisters, all of them helping their mother bake, though his sisters were both rather young and he was only a child himself, he can always vividly remember the memory and it never fails to brighten his mood

Mirror of Erised: himself, with his own family, everyone happy and well

Amortentia (what he smells like): leather, whisky, firewood, coffee, and cinnamon

Amortentia (what he smells): vanilla, rose, TBD

Career

Ages 11–18: Hogwarts Student

Ages 18–48: Cursebreaker/Head Cursebreaker (appointed at age 29)

Ages 48–Retirement: Part-time Cursebreaker, only taking up the more localized work and desk work at Gringotts

Personality & Attitude

Priorities: family and friends, the safety of his sisters

Strengths: bravery—determination—ambiguity—adaptability—loyalty—empathy—charming

Weaknesses: stubbornness—hotheaded at times

Stressed: during his exams, when things don’t go to plan at work

Calm/Comforted: when he’s at home with his family, or spending time with his friends

Favorites

Colors: red, green, navy blue

Food: waffles with eggs and bacon

Drink: in the morning, coffee; in the afternoon, tea with a spot of sugar; and when he’s of age, a glass of whisky in the evening to decompress

Weather: sunny, moderate temperatures

Hobbies: Quidditch, helping with the family farm animals, reading

Fashion: Auggie’s style is mostly very casual and comfortable, as he likes loose fabrics to work in. He doesn’t mind his clothes getting a bit dirty, but he prefers to always look his best, and he will dress up for special events.

Relationships

Significant Other/Love Interest: Ema McGill (@kc-and-co)

Friends

(Auggie is currently open for friendships with others’ ocs, feel free to message me or reply to this to let me know if you’d like for your oc to be friends with him!)

Arthur “Teddy” Ellison (@cursebreakerfarrier)

Galen Stagg (@cursebreakerfarrier)

Liore Harewood (@cursebreakerfarrier)

Danny Gibson (@catohphm)

Selina Fawley (@gcldensnitch)

Tadhg Lynch (@unfortunate-arrow)

Anthony Rosen (@unfortunate-arrow)

Maxwell Pembroke (@unfortunate-arrow)

Rivals

TBD

Trivia

Auggie became a Cursebreaker because his father is his biggest role model

as a Cursebreaker, Auggie has been to Egypt, Scotland, Norway, North America, and Romania

he hopes to one day have his own farm

he’s very intrigued by muggle artifacts and practices

he says he doesn’t have a favorite sister to keep Charly and Maggie from arguing (it doesn’t work at all, they still argue over it)

#new oc #hphl oc #hogwarts legacy oc #hogwarts legacy #augustus benedict grant #auggie grant

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need-a-fugue · 3 years

Text

Trustworthy (Chapter Two)

Summary: You’ve spent the last three years teaming up with Santiago Garcia on every mission you had a hand in coordinating… and the past several months plotting with him to take down the biggest bad to hit your radar. But even all your time at the DEA and all your experience in the field couldn’t have prepared you for this.

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader (slow burn)

Warnings: Language... shitty language. And maybe sheer size? This one’s nearly 6,000 words... I may have gotten a little carried away. 😬

It began as a drunken joke, a flippant what if…

“If no one else is gonna do it,” you’d slurred out, voice barely above a whisper despite the cantina being utterly empty aside from the two of you, “we should take the motherfucker out ourselves.”

He’d laughed at the time, and promptly cut you off before insisting on walking you home. He helped you along the uneven streets of Leticia, held back your hair as you blew chunks into a dark alley, even slept on your couch that night just to make sure you didn’t die in your sleep. That’s what he told you, anyway. But you suspected that Santiago stuck around that night because he just couldn’t get your words out of his head.

You hadn’t been so drunk that you’d failed to notice the way he went eerily silent following your seemingly ludicrous suggestion. You hadn’t been so far gone that you’d missed the sudden glint to his eyes, nor the crooked smile that wrapped around his face as you said the words, “I want Lorea dead.”

That next morning, he brought it up casually, asking – before you even had the chance to brush your teeth – if you remembered what you’d said. When you told him you remembered every part, he simply told you to go on, nodding slowly along as you dove headfirst into a painfully impulsive proposal, your words still tinged with a lingering, drunken idealism. You spilled out the disparate thoughts you’d been harboring for months, if not longer – the ones that together formed little more than the ill-conceived beginnings of a damn stupid plan – only to discover that they were precisely in line with what he’d been contemplating as well.

By the end of the week, you were introducing him to your longtime informant, a woman who’d worked for Lorea in some capacity for years. A gorgeous woman, whom you’re almost entirely certain Santi fell into bed with later that same night. And after just a few months of nearly constant off-the-record investigating – both of you becoming utterly consumed by the thought of bringing Lorea down – that crazy, ridiculous, fucked-up joke you’d made had become a highly illegal, morally questionable, might-just-get-you-fired-and-thrown-into-a-federal-prison plot for ending the reign of one of the premier drug traffickers in South America.

You’d started it. There was no denying that. You’d started the whole damn thing.

For nearly three years, you fought the good fight with Santiago Garcia down in Colombia. He was one of just a handful of people there whom you trusted. He actually was one of just a handful of people there you even really knew.

If you ever got to chose an advisor to head up a mission, he’d be it. Any raid that fell within your purview, he’d help to organize. Intel was slow in coming, CIs dropping off, bosses telling you not to leave Leticia and to remember to stay in your lane? No problem. Garcia to the rescue.

He was able to operate largely independently – unlike poor, bound-by-the-rules-and-regulations-of-the-DEA you. Local cops and the surrounding military actually liked him and never balked at bringing him in, mostly because he was more than capable of playing along with their bullshit. Hell, he was so good at it, that for the first few months you knew him, he had you convinced that he either completely bought into the very obvious corruption surrounding that Amazonian paradise, or – if he really didn’t see it – he was dumber than a fucking box of rocks.

But Santiago Garcia never missed a damn thing. And while he might have seemed to have written off the actions of certain officials or the peculiarities you both encountered, he never ignored – nor forgot – the individuals he suspected of collusion. He was just smart enough to know when to act.

You, on the other hand, well, you never were very good at not calling people out. For all your life, if you saw something that seemed funky, you’d say something… immediately. If you ever suspected someone of lying, plotting, taking bribes, just plain being dirty, you’d raise an accusing finger high. Hell, that’s the main reason you got sent down to that southernmost point of the country, transferred away from what you saw as being the real goings-on, to simply help keep an eye on the drug runs taking place at the border.

Santiago taught you to quell your initial reactions of raising a stink when you believed something was amiss. He urged you to stop seeing the word in a never-ending list of black and white rules. He showed you how to keep from boiling over and calling people out, a thing that undoubtably kept you from getting yourself reassigned somewhere you’d be less of a nuisance… again.

He also fed you intel, shared specifics of his suspicions, and helped get you into military-run raids where DEA might otherwise have been shut out. And in the time in between – when you would normally just stalk around your small apartment all alone or perhaps stalk about the city… also all alone – he provided friendship, that not-so-tiny thing you’d been lacking ever since getting transferred from your post and away from the workmates and friends you’d had for years in Mexico.

He was fun and sharp-witted and outgoing, eager to make friends with just about anyone. He invited you out for drinks, dancing, into local card games. And though you often wondered why – did he feel sorry for you because the local police and military alike treated you like a damn leper? Was he trying to show others that you were alright, despite being a gringa DEA agent? Did he simply want to fuck you? – you’d be lying if you were to say that you didn’t feel damn lucky he’d stumbled into your life and forced his friendship upon you.

And how did you repay him? For all of the invites he’d extended, all the drinks purchased, all the intel he threw your way, all the military-run raids he somehow managed to get you in on? All of the trust and faith he invested in you?

You’d set him on a path to ruin.

000

The bar was much larger than you’d anticipated, the quick drive-by you did on your way to the motel earlier this afternoon making the freestanding structure – out in the middle of nowhere, like everything else in this Bumblefuck, USA town – appear small. Maybe it was because the massive parking lot dwarfed it. Maybe it was because you were only half awake, at best, and just didn’t notice the size of the place. Maybe it was because Santiago drove past it at 65 miles per hour, alerting you to it – that’s where we’ll meet up tonight – just as you flew by, allowing little more than a meager glimpse.

Regardless, you expected… less.

But the place is huge. There are two bars on either side of the sprawling building and tables flanking the wide-open center, which you could only imagine would at some point be flooded with drunken townies, eager to dance the night away.

When you first arrived – well over an hour ago – it had been just you and a handful of incredibly loud bros populating the place. You took off for the far bar, ordered yourself a drink, and slinked into a large table in a dark corner, eager to remain invisible until Santi arrived with his friends… his crack team. But – just as you’d come to expect from Garcia – he was nearly an hour late, and by the time he and his brothers-in-arms strolled in, you’d already been spotted by the douchebags at the bar and had to fight off the advances of two separate assholes, each of whom only approached you when making their way back from the bathroom.

“I’m sorry, bonita,” Santiago had proclaimed with a wide smile and a not-at-all-stifled laugh after you told him of your troubles. He turned to face the group of strangers at the bar, caught the glares of a few of them, and shouted over a simple dictate to, “Fuck off!”

And that had been the cap to your introduction to your new co-workers. They strode in, all smiles and laughter and blooming drunken glows, coming from what must have been a great fight night, undoubtably made all the better by being together once again, only to be forced to shake hands with you… a jetlagged stranger, washed out in the low light, obviously frazzled by having a guy fresh from the men’s room – who probably didn’t even bother to wash his hands – wrap an arm around your shoulder and tell you that the bathroom door locks… in case you wanted to check it out with him later.

They took your uncomfortable story in stride, exchanging pleasantries and apologizing again for their tardiness – well, Will apologized at least – before grabbing some drinks and then plopping down at the isolated table you’d chosen.

For a bit, the group of them just talk to one another, tying up loose ends to the conversations they’d been having before arriving. You catch snippets of nah, man, she’s gone… didn’t work out and do you have any idea how expensive kids’ soccer is? as their conversation flows around you, seemingly oblivious to your existence. For those first ten minutes or so – save Santiago’s paltry threat shouted across the bar and Benny’s rather flirtatious introduction – the whole team settles in around you and acts as though you aren’t even here at all.

The only exception during this time is the pilot, Frankie Morales – had Santi called him Fish? He keeps quiet as the others speak, cracking a smile at their comments every now and then, but mostly nursing his beer and awkwardly picking at the label in silence. Every so often, he steals a glance over at you, as if to say, yeah, I know you’re here. His eyes are warm and friendly despite the otherwise utterly unreadable expression planted on his face.

Maybe you’re simply intrigued by the fact that he’s the only one actively acknowledging your presence, or it could be that you’re just rather curious to figure out what his placid expression is hiding. Or perhaps you’re merely a fan of the subtle beauty that his sharp profile paints on the background of the dark, seedy bar. Whatever the reason, you find yourself not just staring but gazing at the man long after he looks away.

“So, shoot me straight,” Will says suddenly, nudging your shoulder and tearing into your thoughts as he turns to face you. Your eyes bounce wildly away from Frankie’s face, a heat creeping up your neck as you light on the patient smile of the man next to you. “That file… it’s your work, right?”

“Hey,” Santiago scoffs from across the table, leaning over to backhand his friend in the chest. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Will’s face cracks and a deep rumble of a laugh spills out of him as he bites out, “It’s good work. Too good to come from your sorry ass.”

Santi scoffs, his hand flying to his heart with a wounded quality. You simply shrug, small smirk perking your lips as you feel some of the initial tension of the gathering – and the strange concern that you might actually have somehow become invisible – finally start to lift. “He helped,” you say, tone coy.

“Oh, c’mon,” Santiago gripes, giving you a slightly irritated, definitely amused look. “Half that intel came from me. The PNC, Colombian military, they barely even acknowledge you’re there.”

You interrupt with a snort and a scathing, “Yeah… it’s really fucking annoying when people do that,” before choking down the rest of your beer.

If he understands the jibe about your current situation, he doesn’t let on, instead pushing his point that, “None of them would’ve given you jack shit.”

“And the one informant who actually got all this started?” you counter, accusing brow raised high. “Who’s informant was that?”

His face begins to blush, just a bit of redness seeping into his cheeks, as he reaches out to grab your empty bottle. “She was mine in the end,” he mutters, shoving back from the table and rising from his stool. “I’ll get the next round.”

“Yeah,” you call out after him. “You owe me more than just a beer for stealing my CI!”

“I’ll get you a shot too!” he throws over his shoulder, never looking back as he makes his way to the bar.

You turn back to the men surrounding you, each of them now eyeing you warily, and a part of you wants to go back to when they ignored your presence entirely. Tom – what did Santiago call him? Redfly? – is the first to break the awkward silence, ticking his chin in your direction. “So,” he starts before pulling a long breath in through his nose. “DEA.” He overenunciates each letter and states rather than questions your affiliation, despite there being an inquisitive – or is it accusing? – glint to his eye.

“Yeah,” you say with a lingering nod. “Yep. DEA.”

“They teach you about this kind of thing?” Will asks, his drawl deep and languid. You turn to look at him, the imposing man by your side, and feel your shoulders tighten all over again when you see that the stern expression he had worn when first shaking your hand has returned. But then something lightens, the corner of his mouth ticking up just a bit, his gaze softening as your eyes meet. You’re certain that he can sense the rise in tension, understands with just a glimpse of your face that you’re way out of your element here. Intimidated. Nervous. And while the softening of his countenance doesn’t wipe away your anxiety completely, you do at least appreciate the attempt.

Ben, the tall, younger man flanking your other side, must notice the unease building up inside you too. He leans in and bops you with his shoulder, a light, buoyant laugh bursting out of him. “Aw, hell,” he emits breathily. “Leave her alone. If Pope trusts her, she’s got to be good.”

“Not saying she’s not good,” Will intones, shooting you a quick wink that, oddly, really does manage to set you at ease. “Just wondering how much experience she has with ops like this.” His eyes start to sparkle as they lock onto yours once again. “So, sweetheart, you ever pull a recon mission deep in the jungle?”

You offer an evasive shrug and release a tightly held breath. “I got lost in a corn maze once. Had to find my way out on my own. Probably would’ve starved in there if I hadn’t had the presence of mind to bring a funnel cake in with me.”

On your left, Ben snorts out another laugh, and across the table you see Frankie try to maintain that straight, impassive face. But Will’s deadpan expression doesn’t shift in the least. “Well,” he says with a sigh, bringing his nearly empty beer bottle up to his lips. “I guess that is pretty damn close.”

“Ha, ha,” Tom mocks. He waits to go on until you look his way, and once you do he levels you with what can only be described as a fatherly stare – oddly disappointed and imploring, stern and warm all at the same time. “We’re all very glad to hear that you have a sense of humor.”

“Very glad,” Ben interjects with a wide grin.

“But,” he continues, “You’re not gonna go in there and be part of this unless you can convince us that you’re capable.”

Santiago’s voice cuts in then, sounding over the clink of beer bottles as he lays out the next round on the table. “She’s capable,” he states simply before sliding back into his seat next to Frankie. “We’ve been on…” he glances over at you, “how many raids now?”

“At least a dozen,” you answer.

He gives a firm nod and lets his eyes drift between the men at the table. “She’s done good every time. Stays outta the way, does what she’s told.”

Your brow wrinkles and tugs tightly together, deep frown taking over your face. “Jesus, Garcia. I’m not a fucking dog.” He gives a quick laugh, but says nothing, prompting you to defend yourself. “I’ve worked with military advisors for years. Most of my career has been spent working alongside foreign armies and police forces. I’m not just some kind of desk jockey, I promise you that.”

“This is different.” The words flow across the table, the deep rumble sliding just beneath the reverberating bass coming from the jukebox in the corner. You look up and lock onto Frankie’s eyes, note immediately the hesitancy building behind them. He raises his brows as he looks at you, almost into you, and says simply, “This isn’t a raid. This isn’t some amateur hour bullshit put on by the local cops. And you won’t have the military or CNP or the US government at your back if something goes wrong.”

You nod, wanting – for some inexplicable reason – to pull your gaze from him, but finding that you just can’t. “I know. I get that.”

“Do you?”

Santiago gives his friend a little shove, just enough to cause him to look his way, breaking the odd hold he has over you. “She’s a good shot,” he tells him, tells all of them. “And she’s done enough undercover work for me to know that she sure as shit can keep her head.” He looks over at you again – “I still don’t know how you managed to get out of that shit in the comuna last year.” – and then gives a wry little laugh as his head shakes absently.

“Alright,” Tom mutters just as he slams down an empty bottle and reaches over to grab a new one. “She follows orders and keeps her cool… at least we can work with that.”

Benny nudges you with his elbow and when you look up at him you’re met with the widest, sunniest of smiles – never mind the deep split in his lip from the fight that he claims to have won just a few hours prior. “Hear that? That’s just about the best kind of approval you’ll ever get from Redfly.”

“Approval?” Tom shoots across the table. His voice drops an octave as he aims a serious stare over at you. “I’m still not convinced that we can actually trust you.”

“Jesus,” Santi breathes out with an annoyed air. “You really think I’d bring her here… hell, you think I’d have put all this together with her if I didn’t think – know – that she can be trusted?”

He shrugs. “You haven’t really known her that long,” he mutters thickly, his expression slipping back into something wary as he folds his arms across his broad chest and falls into a speculative silence as he mulls over his friend’s words.

You watch him closely, trying to discern what exactly he’s thinking. But long before you’re able to draw any sort of conclusion, Benny bumps you with his shoulder again and says simply, “Don’t worry about it, darlin’. He’s onboard.”

There’s a part of you that balks at the darlin’, just as you had almost called Will out on his use of sweetheart. But the truth is – both times – the names are uttered with a casual, even reassuring, cadence that you’re certain holds no demeaning intent. And you’ve been in enough male-dominated circles over the years to be able to discern at least that much. Even the way Ben’s looking at you now – genuine grin and kind eyes – seems to hold no innuendo. So you let it slide.

“How long did it take him to trust you?” you ask, the tension in your shoulders lifting when a throaty chuckle bubbles out of him.

“Oh, I don’t know that he does. I don’t know if Tom really trusts anyone.”

A snort of a laugh rings from the other end of the table, surprisingly coming from the Doubting Thomas himself. “You’re so full of shit,” he mumbles as he sits back upright and grabs his beer. He takes a giant swig and tacks on for good measure, “Besides, nothing wrong with being… cautious. My being – ”

“A distrustful prick,” Santiago interjects brazenly.

“Whatever you want to call it,” he counters with a faux-saccharine lilt. “It’s saved all your asses more than a time or two. Hasn’t it?”

There’s a quick round of almost wistful snickers from nearly all the men, each seeming to light onto a particular memory, their gazes faltering and ticking briefly off towards nothing. The exception is Frankie, who simply stares down at the battered beer bottle in front of him, sticker half peeled off and clinging to his fingernails as he continues to work at it with a frown. “What about this informant of yours,” he says, low voice slicing into the newfound silence. He shifts nervous eyes over to the man at his right. “You’re sure she can be trusted?”

Without hesitation, Santiago nods. “I’m sure of it. And besides, we’re not basing all of this just on her word. You read the file, right?” He glances over at you and ticks his chin in your direction. “We checked it out. We’ve been out there enough to get a lay of the land. We’ve seen the deliveries of cash coming in… and not going back out.”

Will speaks next, his words soft and slow. “Could all be a setup… a giant, well-planned setup.”

You shake your head. “No. No, it’s legit.” Five sets of eyes turn to you, drilling into you for something more substantial. But the truth is, all that you have is in that file. And, yeah, it could be an elaborate setup. Or – more likely than that – just a really, really bad idea. But your gut says it’s neither. Your gut says that this whole damn thing is the only way to put an end to Lorea’s ever-growing cartel.

Tom’s eyes narrow at you once again, suspicion still lingering in his glare. “How’d this all happen, huh? How’d you even get involved with this… this shit-brain scheme?” he asks before the serious countenance begins to crack and he blows out a harsh chuckle. “How’d Pope sucker you into all this?”

Santiago answers before you get a chance to even open your mouth. “I didn’t sucker anybody into anything. And I don’t use the same callsign down there, so…”

Your eyes flash over to meet his, face splitting into an insolent grin. “Pope…” you mutter, popping the p at the end. “How exactly did you get that name, anyway?”

He rolls his eyes. “You don’t need to know.”

“He spent his first firefight hailing Mary through the coms,” Will chimes in with a teasing lilt. “All damn night.”

“I was nineteen.” He defends… almost whines. “You wanna tell her how you got Ironhead?”

He shrugs and takes another pull of his beer. “I’m not embarrassed.”

Frankie smirks from the other side of the table as he issues out under his breath, “You should be.”

Your eyes bounce eagerly back and forth between the men, silently pleading for someone to tell you the story of Will’s ridiculous moniker. But it seems that you’ve once again gone invisible.

“Hey, he held that record for a solid decade,” Benny mutters beside you. “And I’m pretty sure that dipshit, MacCovey, cheated to take the title.”

“How can you cheat at that?” Frankie asks with an incredulous laugh.

“He cheated.”

“Cheated at what?” you blurt out, eager to just hear the tale. “Ironhead’s a title? With a record? For what?”

Will pivots in his seat, flashing you a smug grin as he rather haughtily announces, “Record for the most concussions sustained during basic training. And no one can take Ironhead away from me… especially not some hardheaded kid from freaking New York.”

“How do you know he was from New York?” Santi asks.

Frankie cocks his head at his friend too. “You met him?”

“Didn’t he die?” Tom interjects, confusion suddenly weaving through the lot of them.

“Did he?” Will asks. “Shit, guess he wasn’t that hardheaded after all.”

Benny leans forward to address them all. “He didn’t die. Just lost a leg. Roadside bomb.”

“Shit,” his brother repeats solemnly.

“Was supposed to be his last tour too. Well, guess it still was.” He looks down for a somber beat before lighting on Frankie. “And I heard that he never actually hit his head when he fell off that tower, so… cheated.”

Throughout all of the back and forth, you just sit, eyes wide, expression both amused and deeply concerned. “Jesus,” you finally breathe out once everyone falls quite. You turn to Will, look a little closer at him as though you might be able to discern some of the damage done so many years ago. “Are you… okay?”

He lets out a hearty laugh and raps his knuckles on his skull. “Nothing to worry about here,” he tells you with a wide smile. “Ironhead, remember?”

Tom snorts and shakes his head skeptically. “Tune’ll change when that CTE shit kicks in… start wandering around the neighborhood, talking to yourself, picking fights with people in grocery stores.” He stops short and flashes a shit-eating grin. “Oh wait…”

The joke – if there even really is one – is lost on you. But Will must get it, because his face flashes in irritation, a mere, “Very funny,” falling from his lips as he brings his beer bottle up to meet them.

You let out a sigh – “I’m confused.” – and choose to ignore Tom in favor of getting more of the story from Ironhead himself. “Did you get concussions on purpose? Why does this seem to be some kind of source of pride?”

“It wasn’t on purpose…”

“What about that full can of soup you tried to crush on your head?” Frankie interjects with a raised brow.

“Yeah, alright, there was that one,” he concedes.

Your forehead furrows deeper. “If you were always getting hurt, why didn’t they call you something like, Falls-a-Lot or Unlucky Charms or just Blockhead?”

He stares at you for a long moment, face hardening into a stoic set. “Wasn’t Tom asking how you got yourself into all this? Wasn’t that what we were talking about?”

You offer a nonchalant shrug. “Don’t think we were really talking about it…”

“She basically started it,” Santiago states simply. “I mean, I was in the minute she brought it up, completely in. But it was her shit-brained scheme from the get-go.”

“Really?” Tom smarts, skeptical look once again riding his face as he takes a pull from his beer.

“Look,” you begin, tone painfully sincere, “I’ve been on the losing end of this battle for years. And the people down there, the families… the kids he recruits…” You stop for a beat and slowly, bitterly shake your head. “Lorea, and all the others like him… It’s their turn to lose.”

Tom nods, his gaze never breaking from yours. “You do realize you sound just like him,” he mutters, ticking his chin towards Santi. “Seriously,” he begins, stare serious, but tone glib. “Did you two hatch this crazy little plan together in bed?”

You glance over at Garcia, quickly taking note of the burning blush creeping up his neck as he hides beneath his baseball cap and tries not to laugh. Then, on their way back to Tom, your eyes light on Frankie. He too is ducking his head. But he doesn’t seem to be laughing like the others. Rather, from what you can make out beneath the shadow of his hat, he looks… embarrassed. No. Dejected.

Your heart skips a beat and you blurt out suddenly, “We’re not sleeping together,” a little too loudly to come across as anything other than agonizingly defensive. The laughter intensifies and you clear your throat before going on to say, “Garcia’s usually too busy fucking his informants to ever even think of giving me the time of day.”

Benny just about loses it, his body pulsating with fits of giggles as he leans back a bit and reaches out to give you a high five. You oblige, a small, crooked smile tugging at the corner of your mouth as you see Santiago shift across from you. He peers at you from beneath the ballcap, eyes dark and smile wide as he says, voice deep and honeyed, “Oh, bonita, trust me, I’ve thought about it.”

You roll your eyes and tip back the nearly empty bottle to your lips, draining the last dregs of your beer before rising and stating, “I’ll get the next round… as long you guys promise to do nothing but regale me with embarrassing stories about Pope for the rest of the night.”

000

Jetlag. It’s something you’ve experienced countless times over the years, hopping from place to place, office to outpost to field. And yet you’ve never really managed to get used to it, the bone-deep fatigue kicking your ass after each and every trip you’ve ever taken. A full day of travel, and now a full night of drinking, and by the time the lot of you stumble out of the bar, you’re barely able to put one foot in front of the other.

“Lightweight, huh?” Benny jokes as he pushes past you on the way to his car.

You grumble under your breath, something akin to, shut the fuck up, though your words aren’t all that put together right now either. But Ben doesn’t hear any of it anyway, he’s already giving his brother an unforgiving shove in the nearly empty parking lot and laughing maniacally as he dodges the lazy retaliatory punch.

“Don’t mind him,” Frankie mutters from behind you. You stop and turn, squinting through the harsh halogen light piercing your eyes as you look up at him. He notices the pained grimace you give and lets out a light chuckle as he takes your elbow and swings you back around to lead you to the car. “You seem more tired than drunk to me,” he says with a lilt as he easily slips his arm beneath yours for a little extra support.

Without thinking, you let your head tip to the side and rest on his shoulder. “Soooo tired,” you bemoan. A deep rumble of a laugh pulls from Frankie’s chest, reverberates up and through his entire body so that you feel it vibrate into you. It makes you smile. It makes you tuck yourself in a little closer. You stumble a bit, your toe catching on a crack in the pavement, and before you can even think to right yourself, his arm pulls away and reaches around, the warmth of his hand splaying across your hip as he steadies you. “Maybe a little drunk too,” you admit with a sigh.

If he thinks it’s odd that you’ve burrowed so close to him, or if he’s the least bit uncomfortable with your fingers now clinging to the back of his shirt, or if he’s irritated at having to slow to a crawl to help you to Santiago’s car, he doesn’t show it. Instead he easily slows his pace to match yours, giving your hip a little squeeze as he says, “Hey, sorry about earlier.”

Your shuffling stops as you pull back to look up at him with a confused frown. “You mean telling that story about Santiago’s ex? I don’t think I’m the one… to apologize…” Your brow furrows even deeper as you try to sift through what you just said, trying to determine if it makes any sense.

He lets out another low laugh, the sound quickly becoming a new favorite tune. “No. I mean about…” He hesitates for a moment, the smile slowly melting from his face. “When I was… questioning you. Whether or not you’re up for this. And, you know, whether or not you’re getting played.”

“Oh,” you bark out, far louder than intended. “Yeah, no.” You wave it off and waste no time at all – fatigue and alcohol both wiping away any embarrassment you might otherwise feel at plastering yourself up against a near stranger – falling back into him.

He chuckles again as he hikes you a bit higher and leads you over to the tiny blue rental car in the corner of the lot. “It’s just… I know you put a lot of work into gathering the intel. And I know this is… important to you. Or you wouldn’t be here. But still…”

You turn your face into his shoulder, his chest, unabashedly breathing in the musky scent from the collar of his jacket as you mumble into him, “I promise not to fuck it up. At least not too bad.”

“Hey!” Garcia calls out from the car, swinging the back door open as you two approach. “You getting handsy with my girl?”

Frankie snorts out a laugh, incredulous, almost sardonic, and not nearly as endearing as the ones that have been rumbling into you for the last however many glorious minutes it’s been. “Not your girl,” you mutter blandly. “Too risky… too many possible diseases.”

“Hilarious,” he deadpans, standing back as Frankie helps you into the car, his palm pressing gently on the back of your head to make sure you duck inside safely. “She took like five Xanax on the flight in,” he tells his friend with a snicker. “Probably shouldn’t have let her drink so much on top of that.”

“Hate flying,” you breathe out as you settle back, harshly tugging at the seatbelt to your left.

Frankie shakes his head in amusement as he watches you grow increasingly frustrated with the non-cooperative seatbelt. “How can you hate flying?” he asks, crooked smile stretching across his face.

You stop the infernal struggle and collapse back into the seat, “Fucking hate it,” coming out of you in a petulant whine.

“Alright,” he murmurs amid a snicker as he leans into the car, easily tugging the seatbelt out and reaching around to buckle you in. Your eyes droop further, slipping closed as he pulls back out of the car, fading into the night. “You guys good?” you hear him ask, the deep tenor of his voice sounding even more melodic when penetrating the dark.

“Yeah,” Santiago tells him, fatigue drowning just that single word. “We’re over at the Motor Inn. Just a few miles up. Listen, Frankie… thanks for this. Really. This…” You almost open your eyes again, want to just to see if the expression on Garcia’s face matches the earnestness in his tone. “This isn’t just a standard op, you know. To me. To her. This is… just… thanks.”

“Yeah,” he replies simply. “Well, uh… I’ll see you Thursday.”

The only other sounds you hear before slipping away entirely are the door gently closing beside you, the engine starting up in a soft roar, and Santiago muttering, seemingly to himself from the front seat, “I am not carrying your ass to bed.”

Taglist:

@tweedlydumbtweedlydoo @icanbeyourjedi @greeneyedblondie44

#frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales x you #triple frontier #santiago pope garcia #will ironhead miller #benny miller

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danses-with-dogmeat · 3 years

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Introducing My Fallout OCs!

OMGGGG y’all, I can’t. I’ve apparently reached over 200 of you fantabulous followers and I am so ecstatic! I honestly don’t even know if this is considered a milestone or anything, but I was super psyched, so I'm doing something about it, dang it!

Also, just a heads up on me right now, I just started school again, so my posting miiiiiiight be a bit sporadic every now and then, but I’m determined to still try and get a few posts out every week, so we’ll see how that goes. I’m also pretty backed up on requests at the moment, I’m still accepting them for the time being, but I may turn off my asks if I’m finding difficulty getting to everyone.

Anyways, I know I don’t ever really talk about my Fallout Original Characters, but I’m thinking of doing some stuff with them in the future, so this seemed like a good place to start 🤷‍♀️ So, here they are! One from each of the 3 FO games I write for. If ya’ll want to send in any asks about these folks, please feel free to do so!

(Art for these peeps is pending potentially as well).

My Lone Wanderer: Hope

Appearance:

- Basically like a black-haired, blue eyed Sarah Connor (y’know, from Terminator), she’s got a small frame, but is an absolute beast. She loves to change up her hair, but prefers the iron maiden, unladylike, or rude ridge styles and will often dye it bright-ass colors, cuz why not? She’s pretty pale considering the vault background and the fact she is constantly wearing full body combat or leather armor when she’s outdoors, and she has a few piercings she actually got before leaving the vault.

What’s in a Name:

- “Hope” was the name that her parents chose for her before she was even born, but she can’t stand it, she just tends to see it as a cruel joke in the world they live in. She instead goes by Effie (short for Ephialtes, cuz she’s edgy and dramatic and read too much in school). Hope tends not to tell anyone her real name, and if she does, you’d best not use it to refer to her, unless you like being enslaved. The only one who could ever get away with it is Jericho and a select few people from the vault (Stanley, and her father, but she’s still not happy about it.)

Sexuality:

- Pansexual

Main Companion:

- Jericho

Relationship(s):

- She has a sort of “friends with benefits” type situation going with Jericho, but it ends up getting... complicated, and turning somewhat into a relationship.

Bestie(s):

- Even though he’s her boss, Hope likes to hang out with Eulogy when she’s in Paradise Falls. When she was in the vault, she spent a lot of time with Stanley, and was pretty close with Butch, Wally, and Paul as well.

Fam Dam:

- James and Catherine are/were her parents (obviously). But she also considered Stanley to be a sort of uncle to her.

Karma:

- Oh, the worst. She’s honestly awful. She steals, she murders, she enslaves, she blows up settlements, all of it. She’s got a lot of things she needs to work out...

Faction of Choice:

- The Slavers of Paradise Falls. (Yeah... she sucks.) The Brotherhood and the Outcasts just never really struck her fancy, and her and Jericho found it was easy to make bank with the slavers. Hope also is a friend to Allistair Tenpenny and Mister Burke... and not the folks in Megaton. Cuz they’re all not really alive.

Vault Occupation:

- Engineer

Fun Fact!:

- Hope is really bad with empathy, and absolutely needs to experience something for herself before she can make any sort of judgement on it, or other people who have had that same experience.

My Courier Six: Sage

Appearence:

- Sage doesn’t really consider herself very “flashy” in comparison to most folks in NV. She’s got shoulder length brown hair (blast back or clean cut style) and brownish-hazel eyes. She’s pretty damn tan (Mojave, you know) and doesn’t have many scars, but the ones on the right side of her forehead clearly indicate where she was shot in the head (thanks, Benny). She and Boone tend to twin quite a bit, with matching red berets and sunglasses.

What’s in a Name:

- The poor girl has no clue what her real name was before she was shot, but she saw a box of labelled herbs in Doc Mitchell’s house when she was recovering from her headwounds and decided she liked the name “Sage.”

Sexuality:

- Bisexual

Main Companion:

- Craig Boone

Relationship:

- Also Boone :) it’s a pretty darn slow-burn romance with lots of bumps along the way, but their love always seems to prevail. (Gross and sappy, I know)

Bestie(s):

- Arcade, plus Rex, and ED-E. Also Victor and Doc Mitchell.

Fam Dam:

- No clue, unfortunately. She eventually tries to find out something about her past and her family, if she has any, but she’s got a few things to deal with first (hint, one rhymes with pleaser’s fleegion).

Karma:

- She may make mistakes along the way, but Sage really does try her best to be as good as possible.

Faction of Choice:

- Mr. House and the Followers of the Apocalypse. Would like to get rid of House, but can't bring herself to become responsible for everything once he's gone. She considers herself his personal empathy and tries to assist with the goings on of the Mojave even after the battle of hoover dam. Fucking wiped out everyone in the Legion. Her and Boone are a force to be reckoned with. And she never really cared much for the Brotherhood since she had such little interaction with them. She has a good relationship with Freeside and most of the settlements/other towns as well.

Previous Occupation:

- Courier? She has no idea what else. But she’s oddly really good with medicine 🤔

Fun Fact!:

- She supports Mr. House for a number of reasons, but one of the biggest is that she doesn't want to lose Victor. He saved her, and she considers the securitron to be her oldest friend (besides Doc Mitchell). She knows it's a little selfish, but she can't bring herself to put an end to him after he pulled her from her own grave and helped bring her back from the brink of death.

My Sole Survivor: Jolene Arvanidis-Ryan

Appearence:

- She’s got auburn hair she usually keeps cut short (clean cut) or in a bun, green eyes, pale skin with a good amount of freckles and has exceptionally straight teeth (braces suck, but you know.) When traveling with Cait, people tend to think they’re related. Jolene tends to wear a black beret and, if she has the time and resources, she likes cat eye style eyeliner.

What’s in a Name:

- Her first name runs in the family... plus her dad really liked Dolly Parton, so that helped cement the first name for him. Nate’s last name was Arvanidis, and she tends to use that as her last name exclusively, she rarely reveals her maiden name (Ryan) to anyone.

Sexuality:

- Straight

Main Companion:

- Paladin Danse

Relationship:

- It takes a long time (post BB), but she ends up being with Danse.

Bestie(s):

- MacCready and Cait

Fam Dam:

- Pre-war, her father was a carpenter and her mother was a major in the US military, she had no siblings and was very close with her father since her mom was often away on deployment.

Karma:

- Decent. Tries her best to do what’s “right,” but she sometimes has a hard time determining what that is. Is good at following orders, even if she doesn’t always agree with them (BB is the exception in this case).

Faction of Choice:

- Brotherhood of Steel, at least until BB, then she tends to focus more on the Minutemen, but still stays by the BOS’s side when it comes to taking down the Institute. Despite her loyalty to the BOS, she always regrets what she did to the Railroad, and how she ended things with the Institute, and she holds quite a bit of resentment towards Elder Maxson for ordering her to pull the trigger that ended her son’s life, and the other lives within the Institute.

Previous Occupation (Pre-War):

- She was a Gunnery Sergeant in the US Military. (Trying to follow in her mother’s footsteps).

Fun Fact!:

- She hates killing feral ghouls, but keeps it under wraps since she tends to travel with MacCready and Danse the most. After that random encounter where she found herself murdering her own neighbors, she can’t bring herself to look into the eyes of any feral ghouls she has to kill.

Bonus! Fun Fact!:

- She started out as my sort of "throw away" playthrough where I wanted to do a BOS run, just out of curiosity, but she ended up being my main playthrough… probably because Danse is just the best and I can't get enough of that tin can thesaur-ass.

#fallout #fallout 3 #fallout new vegas #fallout 4 #original character #fallout oc #thank you guys again #ily all so much #thank you for reading #you all are the best

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catharsis-in-a-bottle · 3 years

Text

AHSDHFHHJKKHD

THE QUEEN’S GAMBIT. WAS SO FUCKING GOOD.

[spoilers below if you haven’t seen it and you want to]

Here are some of my (not in any particular order) bullet points. This is gonna be long as hell because, you know, brain dumps amiright

First off, Anya Taylor-Joy’s acting. Is just incredible. In particular moments, you can tell what she’s thinking with a simple hand gesture or with the tiniest raise of an eyebrow. She develops Beth’s signature facial expressions and movements throughout the show, and you just feel like you know her. And during her chess matches, sometimes it feels like she’s staring into your soul. Especially when she gives that badass chin-on-the-hands look and she knows she’s going to win. Powerful energy.

Secondly, I fucking knew I recognized Harry Beltik from somewhere else but my mom didn’t BELIEVE me and then I looked up the actor and he’s DUDLEY DURSLEY, I WAS RIGHT MOTHER, I WAS RIGHT

I love love love how they didn’t make, like, a major romantic plotline. Beth doesn’t end up with a partner - she ends with a bunch of super supportive friends that have her back by the time she gets to Moscow, and like, she has a crush on Townes but they end up being just like super good and healthy friends and I love it?? So much?? Thank you producers

Townes. Just, in general. I really like his character, he’s super nice and his voice is oddly soothing

BORGOV. I LOVE BORGOV. HE IS SO GODDAMN RESPECTFUL. Like, he seemed like a very cold character at first - well-mannered and extremely professional, yes, but rather cold. But when she wins in Moscow? “It is your game. Take it.” I LOVE THAT SO MUCH. AND HE HUGS HER AND STARTS CLAPPING AND THE AMOUNT OF RESPECT AND ADMIRATION AND AFFECTION IN THAT SCENE IS INCREDIBLE. And you don’t see any of that in Borgov’s face when he’s playing. His facial expressions do not change at all. But then his face when she wins!! He’s HAPPY! He’s like, goddamn, I’ve spent my whole life mastering chess, it’s about time somebody fucking beat me! I know I’m repeating myself but just his RESPECT I absolutely adore it

And Beth’s officer-watcher-person in Moscow was all like “ahhh be wary of the Russians! communism!!” but they absolutely did not make this yet another evil Russian show, like please that trope works for plots but it’s about time somebody did something different - they showed the US government as suspicious of the Soviets but then they showed the solidarity between the chess players that Benny talked about earlier (”The Russians work together, Americans work alone” or something like that), and then they showed the kind and excitable people on the streets, and the amount of support they would have had no matter WHO won that goddamn match. The old man she plays at the end. Everyone is a community.

Continuing that - I cannot for the life of me remember the name of the old man with the very puffy white hair, but I loved him too. He sees Beth as the rising star she is, and he respects her. He admires her. The dynamic there is absolutely immaculate, contrary to the dynamic between Beth and the man she beats earlier, the one who walks off and doesn’t even talk to her. We don’t like that man - we like the ones who admit defeat and respect Beth!! I love them!! They are extremely professional, and they show the warm-heartedness that often doesn’t show with all of the cold stares and glares that pass between players during matches.

Joline. I’m so glad she came back. I love her. She’s extremely independent but she comes back for Beth because Beth needs her but she’s also like “I’m not your savior! Get your shit together!” which is fucking awesome. And the fact that the two of them interacted like the best of friends even after years of separation was really sweet to me.

I nearly cried when Beth went back into the school. (I say ‘nearly’ because there were other people in the room and naturally I can’t do that in front of other people. If I was utterly alone, maybe on my own planet, I would have.) Because of all of it. Because of her trauma, because that’s where all the shit began... and the music during that scene. It was hauntingly beautiful, especially when the melody began switching to cello. And then Beth saw all the pictures and newspaper clips that Mr. Shaibel had saved, because he cared about her so much, because he started it all - he’s the reason she’s going to national tournaments, to Paris, to Moscow. And in that scene, we know he’s too old to be alive anymore, and she does too. The whole school scene in general just feels so ghostly and ethereal.

I love Borgov, did I say that already? I just... strive to exude his energy. I want to be good at things but I want to hold deep, genuine respect and admiration for others who are also good at the thing, because sometimes I just have the biggest fucking ego and I can get carried away. ‘Borgov, Borgov, Borgov.’ A mantra. He wins respectfully and he loses respectfully.

BETH’S MOTHER (the second one) JUST FUCKING DIED OUT OF NOWHERE?? AND I WAS SO SHOCKED? Which is really an accurate reflection of reality because death often comes out of nowhere, but DAMN I was not expecting that shit

And the fact that the mother just,,,, let her chug a beer,,,, oof

THE ADDICTION. BETH’S DOWNWARD SPIRAL. IT MADE ME FEEL SO HORRIBLE BUT IT FELT SO REAL. Everything about her progression through addiction was just... I can’t find an adjective. But when she just fucking inhaled that bucket of pills as a kid and then collapsed. When that addiction lasted into her adulthood - it’s really impactful and horrible and just so real. She needed proper care throughout this entire goddamn show and she never got medical care, she just got supportive friends - which, btw, that’s one thing that kind of threw me off. Like, she didn’t have withdrawal in Moscow, she went from chugging like four bottles of wine a day to... not drinking at all?? Without withdrawal symptoms?? And I’m proud of her for throwing away those pills but honestly it felt really fast, idk

GIVING CHILDREN TRANQUILIZERS WAS AN ACTUAL THING THAT HAPPENED. I DID NOT PREVIOUSLY KNOW THIS. BUT LEGITIMATELY, IT HAPPENED. HOLY SHIT.

HARRY BELTIK. He was like, awkwardly in love with Beth and that shit didn’t work out but even afterwards he FUCKING CARED. He’d seen his father drink himself to death and he knew that would happen to Beth and he was scared. So he came back, he tried to help her, and at that point (when she had that fucking scary eye makeup, yeah that was rock bottom) she didn’t care much about the outside world anymore. She was angry, and she was closing herself in. It made my stomach clench in physical pain. Which is a good thing. But also not.

Harry Beltik in general just being so supportive and wanting to help her though, like yeah it was very awkward, but they were vibing

AND BENNY WATTS IS FUCKING GREAT. THAT WHOLE COWBOY LOOK, COWBOY CHESS PLAYER, NOW THAT’S AN AESTHETIC. He was concerned for Beth too. He wanted to help her. He wanted to create that American solidarity that he knew the Soviet competitors had, and ultimately he did when he and everyone else called her in Moscow. Benny is... chaotic good? Neutral? He is quite an interesting character, and Beth’s persistent social awkwardness fades away with him because he knows how to interact with her. He’s a dedicated and smart narcissist, and I’m here for it.

The fact that they made me love and hate Cleo at the same time, and also question Beth’s sexuality when she first met Cleo. Like, she’s from Paris. She considers ‘tomorrow night’ to be a very long time away. I love her mysteriousness. But also, she was the catalyst for Beth’s downward drinking spiral before the match in Paris, so like... I like Cleo’s personality, but not her choices in those previous moments.

The music. Did I mention the music? The soundtrack. The orchestrals. That one song that the mother plays on piano that I hear all the time and I still don’t actually know what it is PLEASE HELP. The music is melancholy in the right moments, upbeat in the right moments, intense and suspenseful in the right moments - and also absent in the right moments. There’s tacet. There’s silence. And it’s always been my firm belief that silence can hold just as much impact as sound.

Just an interesting note, my mom watched the whole show before me and then re-watched it with me, and when Mr. Shaibel showed up she quickly reassured me that he wasn’t a child molester, because quote “it may be a creepy basement but he’s just really nice” so... I was reassured

I love Mr. Shaibel, and Beth just kept sticking up for him in front of the press and,,, yeah

I hated that bitch from the high school, what was her name?... The one who showed up in the store with a child? It makes me think about the fact that so many kids are just jerks in high school simply because they can be... and occasionally their fuckery lasts into adulthood but oftentimes it doesn’t. You don’t have to be a jerk when you’re an adult, and you don’t have to be a jerk in high school! People remember, people always remember! So, to the bitch from the high school: fuck you for making Beth feel like an outsider and then trying to reverse gears and accept her, cuz Beth isn’t falling for that shit.

The twins, Matt and Mike. They’re so doubtful of Beth in the beginning but then bam, she’s competing nationally, and I adore how the three of them become friends. All those men playing chess in Kentucky in the beginning seem so condescending, but ultimately they show respect because Beth absolutely fucking deserves it.

I enjoy the fact that we never *really* know Beth’s age. It’s just like... she’s 9, she’s 15, she’s 17, she’s... twenty something? Who the hell knows? As many characters say, when it comes to skill level, age ultimately isn’t an important factor. This young woman beats the oldest man with the bushiest white hair in Moscow and age. Does not. Matter.

The Jesus people lmaooooo when Beth said “because it’s fucking nonsense” I just. Mad respect ma’am, don’t take their money, go be a communist and “sPrEaD tHe aThEiSt AgEnDa”

Wow I really just... wrote all that didn’t I damn wish I could write essays this fast at reasonable hours of the day

Beth’s relationship with her foster mother is so fucking sweet until she fucking dies

And fuck Beth’s legal father. He is an asshole. That is all.

The mother deserved Manuel, she deserved that sketchy Mexican salesman goddammit

As my final bullet point: This has made me want to play chess. This has made me want to get good at chess. You know that thing where you like, download the personality of the coolest character for like a day after you watch something... I don’t do that anymore (maybe), but I want to download those mad chess skills. This has made chess seem so cool. I want to wear a fancy suit and compete with people. I just have to, you know, actually develop some strategy and stop losing brutally against people online. I wAnT tO pLaY cHesS dO yOu HeAr mE

I’m going to stop now, but I just,,, peeps, I love this show. I’m absolutely going to require a re-watch in the future. I just love it. The characters and their development, their relationships with each other, the progression of time and of Beth’s maturity... it is simply incredible. This concludes my brain dump.

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after-avenging-hours · 4 years

Text

Out of Time [4]: Steve x Reader

Series Masterlist with dates on chapter releases - tag list will not be used for this series

Summary: After Steve gets injected with a mysterious substance during a mission gone wrong, you come to find out that the only thing that can save his life is a pure sample of Dr. Erskine’s Super Soldier Serum. Unwilling to let the love of your life die without a fighting chance, you travel through the quantum realm back to 1943. Equipped with little more than your knowledge of past events, you have to figure out just how exactly you’re going to get your hands on that serum. Not only that, but with the infinity stones no longer protecting the reality you’ve come from, there is now a chance that your presence in the past can change the future you’ll return to. Can you succeed without messing things up? And if things go wrong, can you fix it before it’s too late? Or will you run out of time…

Word Count: 4609

Warnings: Steve having an asthma attack, brief mention of smutty concepts again, two idiots longing for each other

A/N: This chapter references the song Taking a Chance on Love by Benny Goodman, which was a popular song in 1943. I decided not to use the Endgame song 1) because that’s Steve and Peggy’s song and 2) it was technically made in 1945 and therefore would not have existed, yet. You can give Taking a Chance on Love a listen via the links below:

Spotify Link

Youtube link

The next morning you wake up once again to Steve attempting to untangle himself from your limbs. You giggle tiredly, releasing him and turn over to cuddle with your pillow before you promptly fall back asleep. A little later, you’re roused once more by the scent of cooking bacon and eggs.

You push yourself out of bed and lift your arms up in a stretch. Your wound was completely healed as of last night, only leaving behind a set of scars on the side of your abdomen and lower back. You reach for the silk robe you’d pulled out of your suitcase the night before and throw it on over your satin nightgown. You tie the robe closed as you leave Steve’s room and enter the kitchen.

The splattering sound of hot bacon grease fills your ears as you follow its delicious scent. “Good morning,” you announce to Steve, who’s standing by the stove, spatula in hand. He’s already dressed for the day and wears a simple blue apron to protect his clothes from the popping grease.

“Morning. I hope you’re hungry,” he smiles in greeting.

“It smells amazing,” you comment, taking in another deep breath. Stepping around him, you move to the refrigerator. “Do you want any orange juice?” you ask, pulling the carton out that you’d purchased yesterday.

“Sure, thanks,” Steve agrees.

You pull two glasses from the cupboard, pouring out the drinks, before setting the carton back in the fridge. You place both glasses down at the table. The oven timer goes off and Steve is quick to put on a mitt and pull some of the left-over biscuits out, where he was re-heating them. He dishes out the biscuits, bacon, and eggs onto two plates and joins you at the table.

You smile and give him your thanks as you wait for him to take a seat. You spread your napkin over your lap and lift your fork into your hand, ready to consume the freshly prepared meal.

“You have any plans for today?” Steve asks you right before he takes a bite of his bacon.

“I need to check in with work. Will probably need to be there for a few hours.”

“Where are you working?”

Your lips curl in amusement at his seemingly innocent question. “Now what kind of agent would I be if I answered that?”

His cheeks flush in embarrassment. “Oh, right.”

You giggle teasingly and shake your head. “I’m kidding, Steve. I work for the Strategic Scientific Reserve and am currently overseeing one of our recruitment stations.”

His brow furrows as he pauses eating. “I don’t think I’ve heard of that.”

“It’s a joint-government agency dedicated to finding a way to end this war. You’re not supposed to have heard of it.” You grin wryly.

“Oh, I see.” He turns back to his food, spearing some eggs onto his fork, and takes a bite. “What are you doing at a recruitment station?”

You shrug a shoulder. “Looking for soldiers with a specific skill set.”

“Ah,” he scoffs. “And I take it that I wouldn’t qualify?”

You sit back in your seat, eyes washing over him as you think how to best play your cards. “Don’t sell yourself short. It’s all about convincing the right person. Unfortunately, I’m not the person you need to convince.”

He nods like he understands and he drops the topic, but you can tell he continues to mull over your words.

After breakfast has been consumed and cleaned up, you move back to Steve’s room to get ready for your day. You change into a new dress, going with another civilian outfit, even though your uniform is now clean and ready. You then move into the bathroom, fixing up your hair, and putting on your makeup.

Steve observes the whirlwind of activity that goes into a woman’s morning routine. He’s never really seen it up close before. He was too young to have remembered or have the care to know how his mother did it. Movies never really portrayed this side of the process, just showing the end result instead. He can hear you humming a melody he doesn’t recognize from the bathroom. Several minutes pass before you re-emerge, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

“I better get going,” you murmur, walking toward him while looking at your watch. You come to a stop in front of him and lift your gaze to meet his. “Not sure how long I’ll be out for, but do you want to have dinner here again tonight?”

He nods his head quickly, “Yeah, that sounds good.”

The smile you give him makes his stomach flip. “Great. Then I’ll see you tonight.” You turn and head for the front door, pausing after pulling it open. “Oh, I grabbed my key, so if you’re going anywhere, you don’t need to worry about locking me out.”

“Okay.”

You send one more smile his way before wiggling your fingers in a small wave and taking your leave. The door shuts behind you with a soft click, but Steve continues to stand there staring at it for a moment. Every time you’re no longer in his presence he gets this strange feeling like he’s about to wake up from a dream.

You make your way back to the Expo, once again. You’ve got the Recruitment building in sight when you feel a presence behind you. Your muscles tense at the ready and as soon as you feel a hand land on your right shoulder, you react instantly. You reach up with your left hand, gripping the wrist of the hand on your shoulder tightly, you yank it forward. At the same time, you raise your right arm, bent at the elbow, and follow the length of the assailant’s arm up until your elbow meets their neck.

“Woah! Woah!” the man’s voice registers as soon as you’ve turned to meet his gaze.

“Mr. Stark!” You release him instantly. “Don’t you know it’s rude to sneak up on a woman?” you ask, placing a hand to your racing heart.

“Don’t think most of them have reactions quite like that,” he comments, rubbing at the base of his neck.

“Most of them don’t have the training that I have,” you shift from foot to foot, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I’ll have to keep that in mind.” He grins suggestively.

You want to roll your eyes. “What can I do for you, Mr. Stark?” you ask, trying to keep it professional.

He smirks knowingly, but steps back into line. “I just wanted to see how the recruitment has been going for you and the Doc.”

You release a long breath. “We’ve approved a small number of recruits for this next round of training, but we’re not completely confident that any of them are the one just yet.”

“I thought the whole point of sending them off to Camp Lehigh was to determine there whether or not they’re worthy.”

“How a person presents themselves as a civilian can provide just as much information as seeing them interact on a military base. We need to know all sides of their personality. It wouldn’t do us any good to give the serum to a man that will just go off and blindly kill anyone. If a man doesn’t respect innocent lives before being given any powers, then he sure as hell won’t respect them afterward. We need to know how they act as a person before we see them as a soldier.”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” the two of you look to see Dr. Erskine stepping out of the recruitment center.

“Good morning, Doctor,” you greet him with a smile.

“Are you harassing my assistant, again, Mr. Stark?” Erskine questions with an amused smile as he meets with the two of you.

Howard grins, unashamed. “Well, I certainly know better now. She nearly took my arm off.”

“You would have deserved it,” you defend yourself.

“I don’t doubt that,” Erskine chuckles.

Howard raises his hands up as if to proclaim his innocence. “I just wanted to see how everything was going for you and wanted to offer my services if I can be of any use.”

“Just make sure your show is ready for this weekend,” you tell him. “We’re hoping that the crowd it draws will bring some new faces to the recruitment center.”

“Oh, it’s ready, alright,” he responds confidently. “My show is going to blow the rest of this whole fair out of the water.”

You can’t help the smirk when you recall exactly what happens to his invention during the show from Steve’s stories. “I’m sure it will.”

“If that is all, Mr. Stark, we really must be getting back to work,” Erskine steps in.

“Of course,” Howard concedes, letting you both walk past to enter into the recruitment center.

“He’s certainly persistent,” you comment once you’re inside.

“I think that may be because you keep rejecting him. Howard Stark is not used to women that don’t fall at his feet.”

You shake your head and sigh. “I’ve already got more than enough going on with the man I left at home. I really don’t need to start a collection.”

Erskine laughs quietly. “I am still very much interested in meeting this man of yours.”

You send him a conspiratorial smile before walking off to begin your rounds and check in with the MPs that are on staff today. You make sure they’re all on the same page for watching the building’s perimeter and keeping the peace indoors before you send them on their way. The recruitment center is a little busier, considering it’s only Wednesday, but you figure it will only pick up even more, the closer you get to the weekend. Erskine has already told you that you should be prepared to work long hours over the weekend.

You help him interview a few of the morning recruitments before you grab a clipboard and tell him you’re going to scout around the crowds at the fair and see about sending more men over. You do what you can to keep up appearances and pretend like you’re enjoying what you’re doing. But in reality, both your head and heart are still at the apartment.

You can’t help but wonder what Steve is getting up to. Even though he’s not the same Steve as the one you fell in love with, you still find yourself enjoying being around him just as much. To be with him in this time, before he becomes burdened by the trauma of war and the responsibilities of becoming Captain America. Knowing the rough road that he faces, you just want to be able to give him a little bit of light to help brighten his path. Give him hope at a time where he may be beginning to lose it.

Once you’ve finished up with the Recruitment Center for the day, you eagerly head back home. You’re halfway up the metal stairs when the scent of something burning makes you pause. In the next second, you’re dashing up the rest of the steps and burst into the apartment. The burning scent only gets stronger and makes you cringe.

“Steve?” you call out

There’s a slight haze of smoke within the apartment and you can hear coughing. You rush into the kitchen, relieved to see the absence of open flames, but the smoke is definitely heavier in here. Something in a bread pan sits black on the stovetop. The oven door has been left wide open and you find Steve struggling to open the window above the kitchen sink. You quickly take over, popping the latch and yanking it open.

Steve continues coughing next to you and can’t seem to catch his breath. You grab his hand and hurry to get him down the hall and into his room, shutting the door behind you both. “What… are you doing?” he asks between wheezing breaths.

You guide him to sit on the edge of his bed. Then walk around to pull open the bedroom window, too. “The smoke is triggering an asthma attack,” you tell him moving back to kneel in front of him. “Sit up straight,” you encourage, trying to get him to stop hunching over. You reach to undo his tie and pop open the first few buttons of his shirt. “Steve, honey, you’ve gotta slow your breathing,” you tell him, worry dripping from your voice. He inhales and releases a series of coughs without truly exhaling.

You reach up, cupping his face in your hands. “Place your hands on your stomach and try to follow me.” You exaggerate your breaths, trying to make your exhale long and slow. You can tell that he’s trying, but his body just isn’t cooperating. With every cough comes a rapid inhale, and he just can’t make it stop. “Okay, okay,” you soothe, rubbing your thumbs over his cheeks. “I have an emergency inhaler in my med kit, but I need to go get it.” You move to stand. “I’ll be right back,” you assure him.

You step out of the bedroom, making sure to close the door immediately. You first step back into the living room to open the front window, hoping for a cross breeze to form with the kitchen window that will help air out the place. You then rush into the bathroom to grab your first aid kit and take it back to Steve’s room.

You kneel at his feet once more, opening the kit and search for the inhaler. You’d been carrying one ever since the battle of New York. The debris from the battle had cluttered the air in the city with ash and dust and you’d come across several civilians in need of assistance that couldn’t escape the battle area because of triggered asthma attacks. Since destruction had a way of following the Avengers around, your spare inhaler had come in handy on more than a few occasions.

“Oh, yes!” you mutter in success, pulling out the inhaler and handing it to Steve.

“What… is this?” he questions, confusion.

“Bite down on this end and close your lips around it, then press once on the top canister and breathe the air in through your mouth.” He does as you instruct, inhaling the medicine. “See if just that one helps,” you tell him, placing your hands reassuringly on his knees.

He continues to cough, not used to the feeling of the inhaler, but the coughs don’t sound quite as bad as before. His breath still continues to hitch, so you have him use the inhaler once more. After that, he’s finally able to release a full exhale. “There we go,” you encourage gently. “Nice and slow.”

He continues to huff, but no longer coughs. After another minute or so his breaths start to even out. “I think I’m okay,” he tells you. His chest still aches, but he no longer feels like every breath is going to be his last.

You release the stress in your shoulders with a long breath. “You scared me half to death.” Your hands rub absentmindedly over the tops of his thighs.

“Sorry,” he mutters, embarrassed, and not meeting your eyes. “I was trying to make meatloaf for our dinner, but while it was in the oven, I started sketching and I lost track of time.”

You send him one of your gentle smiles. “You don’t need to be sorry, Steve. I’m just glad you’re okay.” You give his knees a light squeeze before standing once more. “I’ll go deal with the meatloaf and get the remaining smoke out of the kitchen. Stay here and I’ll bring something to you. Are you okay if I just re-heat the soup from yesterday?”

He nods.

“Sit tight.” You press your lips to his forehead before turning to exit the room.

You can still smell the burning scent of the meatloaf, but the smoke haze has lessened inside the apartment. You close the open oven door and carefully test how hot the loaf tin is, finding it warm to the touch, but not burning hot. You grab a butter knife and attempt to extract the ashen meatloaf to dump into the trash can, and hopefully salvage the tin. It takes a bit of work because the meatloaf is basically a solid black brick, but eventually, you work it loose. You dump the tin into the sink and fill it with water to soak. You then transfer a portion of soup into a pot and start heating it up on the stove.

While that’s heating, you grab a cookie sheet and start waving it up and down to fan the last of the burning scent out the window. When you no longer smell burnt meatloaf, you put the cookie sheet away and stir the soup to make sure you won’t have a second burning fiasco on your hands. You close up the window, so the apartment won’t get too cold and move into the living room to close the window there, too.

After the soup is heated, you pour out two bowls and take them down the hallway to Steve’s room. You step in to find him exactly where you left him, on the edge of the bed. He’s leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees and his head hanging low. “You still feeling okay?” you question softly.

He inhales sharply and lifts his head. “Yeah,” he responds simply, but you can see the self-deprecation in his eyes.

“Well then, come on,” you encourage with a swift jerk of your head back toward the hall. You want to get him out of the dark bedroom in the hopes that coming out into the light might lift his spirits some.

He pushes himself up with a sigh and follows you out of the room, only to pause in confusion when you turn into the living room instead of continuing straight to the kitchen. “What are you doing?” he asks, confusion turning into curiosity.

“Having dinner on the couch,” you state like it’s obvious. You place one bowl on the end table next to an old lamp. “Take a seat,” you gesture Steve over. You hand the second bowl to him once he reaches you and then you make your way around him to the small bookshelf against the opposite wall.

He has an old radio sitting on top of the bookshelf. You twist the first knob to turn it on and adjust the volume. You carefully spin the second knob until you find a music station with minimal static. Once you’re satisfied, you turn to join Steve on the couch. You kick off your heels and sit with your legs folded under you as you grab your soup.

You lift the bowl closer to your face, so as not to spill anything when you lift your spoon up and blow gently at the hot soup. You pause before eating when you notice that Steve is just sitting there, staring at you. “What?” you question.

He continues to stare, looking a little flabbergasted as he shakes his head slowly. “You’ve got to be the strangest woman I’ve ever met,” he states frankly.

You feel the twitch in your cheek right before a full-on grin develops on your face. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” you laugh.

Steve’s cheeks flush a deep red. “Sorry, that came out rude.”

“No offense taken.” You shoot him a wink.

“But you’re not mad that I ruined our dinner?” he questions.

Your head tilts in confusion, “Why would I be mad?”

He drops his gaze. “Because I got distracted and let it burn. And then my asthma started up…”

“Steve, you can’t control your asthma,” you tell him.

“I know, I just… people tend to get mad at the things that inconvenience them.”

Your eyes widen, unsure if you really just heard him say that. “Steven Grant Rogers! You get that thought out of your head right now!” you chastise. “You are not an inconvenience. You are a person. A human being. A man who is kind and caring and sensitive... and you’re also stronger than you realize. You’re determined, and passionate, and yes, sometimes, you can be a bit of a stubborn jerk, but you are never an inconvenience. And if anyone ever tries to make you feel otherwise, well then you can send them my way and I will happily set them straight.”

He stares at you, open-mouthed, unsure what to say to that.

“Now stop staring at me and eat your soup,” you huff, turning back to your own bowl. “Your body needs to build back its strength.”

He’s quiet for a short moment, absorbing your words. “You’re sure I haven’t been an inconvenience?”

“Steve!” you’re about to go on another tirade but cut yourself off when you see the knowing smirk on his face.

“This is me being a stubborn jerk.”

You scoff out a laugh, shaking your head. “You’re a real pain in the ass, Rogers.”

He chuckles along with you. “I’m sure Bucky would agree with you.”

“Eat!” you insist between your laughter.

“I am!” he responds through a mouthful of potato soup.

The two of you eat in a joyful, relaxed silence, letting the music from the radio fill the space. Once you’re finished, you just set your bowl on the side table and sit back against the couch continuing to listen to the gentle, jazzy melodies. You and your Steve could spend hours sitting and listening to music together. It was one of your favorite ways to wind down after long missions. Sometimes you’d sit on the couch and read while Steve sat next to you, sketching. Other times, the two of you would just lay in bed, wrapped around each other for some solid cuddle time.

Steve only ever had one rule whenever the two of you listened to music together.

The current song on the radio ends and you immediately perk up when a familiar melody starts. It’s Taking a Chance on Love by Benny Goodman and Helen Forrest. The song begins with a series of trumpet bleats harmonizing with a clarinet. The uplifting beat has you rising onto your feet. “Come on!” you grin excitedly down at Steve and hold your hand out to him.

“What is it?” he asks in confusion, but still sets down his empty bowl and takes your hand.

You help him up and off the couch before pulling him into the middle of the living room. “The only rule is that we have to dance to this song.”

“Wha-” Steve’s steps falter behind you. “Vic, I-I don’t dance.”

You give him a sweet laugh, turning to face him. You hold each of his hands in yours and start to sway your hips to the rhythm of the song. “I’m not looking to win any awards, Rogers. Just have fun with me!”

As the melody evens out, you transition to swaying from side to side. Stepping closer to him, you set his right hand against your hip and rest your own on his shoulder. As you continue to sway, he’s forced to join you because of your proximity. You smile encouragingly until he begins to relax.

Here I go again, I hear those trumpets blow again.

All aglow again, taking a chance on love.

He slowly eases into it. Whether it’s because he’s just giving into you or because he’s actually enjoying himself, you’re not quite sure.

Here I slide again, about to take that ride again.

Starry-eyed again, taking a chance on love.

You find yourself singing along to the lyrics. You’ve heard the song hundreds of times throughout your relationship with Steve. You know just about every note by heart. Every time it plays, it never fails to make you fall in love with him just a little more. You’re pretty sure you first realized that you were in love with him while the two of you danced to this song.

I thought that cards were a frame-up, I never would try.

Now I'm taking that game up and the ace of hearts is high.

The first time you ever heard it, the two of you had been newly dating, lounging in the common area of the compound. You were just enjoying each other’s company while Steve had a playlist going on the surround sound speakers. When this song popped up, Steve had given you the biggest puppy eyes you’d ever seen on him and he asked if you wanted to dance. You’d giggled like a giddy school girl and agreed. He’d pulled your body tight against his, swaying gently and softly sang the lyrics directly into your ear.

Things are mending now, I see a rainbow blending now.

We'll have a happy ending now, taking a chance on love.

From that point on, no matter what the two of you were doing, if this song came on, you both would drop everything and share a dance. You’ve left half-finished mission reports, vegetables only partially chopped, water boiling on the stove… all so the two of you could dance like two idiots in love. There was even one time when a music listening-cuddle session had transitioned from heavily making out into foreplay, but when this song came on from Steve’s docking station, he’d given you a wicked grin and pulled you out of bed, not even caring that you were both naked as the day you were born. You’d protested something fierce, having been so close to release via his ridiculously thick tongue, but he’d stubbornly refused your pleas and ignored the ache in his loins where it rubbed against your hip. Instead, he made you dance through the whole song before letting you both continue where you’d left off.

You’re pulled out of your memories when the Steve you’re currently with grows a little bolder with his dance moves and guides you into a spin. You laugh freely, following his lead. You push out until your arms are fully extended and then let him twirl you back in, coming to a stop with your back to his chest. The two of you sway like that for a moment before you twirl out again and he pulls you back, now facing each other. Your hand settles on his shoulder once again, while his lands at the center of your back, bringing you in closer than before.

He’s grinning so wide, you can’t help but match his expression. The stress and shame that had been weighing on him earlier have vanished without a trace. He looks free and happy. Content to hold you in his arms and dance the night away in his tiny apartment. As the song comes to an end, the two of you slow your swaying. Even after just the one song, his breathing is a little heavier than it should be. Likely because of his recent asthma attack.

“There, was that so bad?” you ask gently.

He looks back at you, his features softening serenely. “Could have been worse. At least I didn’t step on you.”

You release a small giggle, leaning in to place a chaste kiss to his cheek. You then pull out of his hold and turn to take your empty bowls into the kitchen. You know if you were to stay in his arms for a moment longer you were going to lose all control and would probably end up throwing yourself at him.

Steve watches you leave the room, a sense of longing building deep in his gut. He’s never felt this way about anyone before. And he’s not entirely sure what to do about it.

Part 5

#steve rogers x reader #pre serum steve x reader #40s steve x reader #captain america x reader

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janicho88 · 3 years

Text

Falling For You -Part 2

October

Pairing- Eventual Dean x Female!Reader, Dean x Lisa(past), Female!Reader x OMC Justin(past)

Word Count-4008

Warning- Mentions of cheating, little angst, some swearing, fluff. This is going to be a bit of a slow burn. Haunted woods. Talk of trying to fake a pregnancy, manipulation, trying to steal from significant other/ falsify documents, Lisa is awful, Justin isn’t much better, talk of being pressured into doing things you don’t want to. I think that is it

A/N- I had an idea for a one shot, and giving a backstory to Dean and the Reader meeting took on a life of its own. This story is AU, and un beta’d.

Summary- After being burned before you had sworn off finding love for now. Coming home from work one night there is a strange man pounding on your door. Neither of you knew what this meeting would lead to.

Series Masterlist

The next week kept you busy at work and not giving you much free time in the evening. Coming or going you always kept an eye out for your new friend though, not seeing him again till the weekend. Heading back to your apartment after your Saturday morning workout you ran into Dean coming out of his brother’s apartment.

“Hi stranger, how is everything coming together for you?”

“Hey Y/N, it’s coming. I found a job, starting a week from Monday. Still looking for a place though, guess I’ll be crashing with Sam a little longer and putting my stuff in storage up here till I find something. Work slow down for you yet?”

“Congrats on the new job! No, not yet. A family emergency came up, and our new person can’t start till next week. At least there is a light at the end though. I hate to run on you, but I’m supposed to be meeting Meg, and I really need a shower. Talk to you later?”

“Sure, see ya around.”

With the wedding dress found it was time to find Bridesmaid dresses. Hopefully this went a little better. Her wedding colors were red, black and silver, you would be happier with a black dress, but Meg was thinking red. The color of fire, this wedding was going to be hot she said.

Thankfully you and the 2 bridesmaids Ruby and Sarah were on the same page about finding one and getting done. None of you wanted to try on tons of dresses. Meg actually approving of the third one you found. They were free to leave after that, you got to go help her set up a gift registry. Your fingers were crossed these next six months until the April wedding went fairly quick. Done for the day, she suggested meeting up with Cas and his best man so you could finally meet him.

The guys were meeting you at a local pizza shop so you could grab dinner and talk. Walking in with Meg you quickly saw Cas, and getting closer to the table, recognized the spiky sandy brown haired man across from him. Sliding in next to Dean you mentioned how he never said anything about being the best man, when you said you were the maid of honor.

“Sorry, I think my head was still on other topics then.” He answered you with a small smile

“Wait, you two already know each other?” Cas questioned looking between you both.

“Yeah, I live across the hall from his brother, remember Cas?”

“I do now.”

“No one ever told me that you and Sam knew each other from Kansas though.”

“I guess we didn’t think about it.”

It was an enjoyable evening out with your friends. You found out more about Dean’s new job, he found a small auto shop hiring a head mechanic. The owner, Bobby, had done most of the work himself but was looking to cut back and possibly retire in a few years. If Dean was still around then and interested he might sell the shop to him. There was a part time mechanic working there also, Benny. Dean seemed to think they would get along well.

Dean gave you a ride back so Meg could take Cas with her since they lived in the opposite direction as you two. “I don’t think I told you last week, but I really like your car.”

“Thanks, Baby is my one true girl.”

“Baby?”

Patting the top of the dash Dean glanced over and smiled at you, “That’s her name.”

You just smiled back, “It’s very nice Dean, I hope the two of you will be very happy together.

Closer to home Dean told you he was renting a car and leaving for Kansas tomorrow. He would turn the car in there and drive a Uhaul back with Sam the following weekend. Apparently his brother wasn’t the best driver and he didn’t trust him to drive that far with his car or the uhaul filled with his belongings. Sam was flying home later in the week to meet up with him. Giving him a quick hug outside your apartment door you wished him safe travels and good luck, telling him you would see him when he got back.

Quickly entering your apartment and shutting the door, you were trying to figure out why you hugged him, and why you suddenly were overthinking it. You were friends, friends hugged right? No reason to give it a second thought.

Friday night there was a knock on your door, but you weren’t expecting anyone. Opening it you were surprised to find Jess on the other side with a pizza box and a bottle of wine.

“Hey, I thought I’d see if you were up for some company. Sam and Dean started the drive back this afternoon, so it’s just me over there.”

“Sure! Come on in.” The two of you spent the evening watching bad romance moves and talking about the brothers. Jess had known Sam since they were in undergrad at Stanford, and had a few stories to tell you about both of them. It was nice to learn a little more about Dean.

When Jess had more wine in her she opened up about Dean’s breakup. “I met the cheating bitch a few times and never cared for her. She thought she was better than everyone, always pushing Dean to buy her things, jewelry and fancy clothes. Apparently she started asking Dean some questions that he thought were weird but told himself she must have been taking an interest in things he liked for once.”

She paused to take a drink of wine. “When Dean was packing up after he kicked her out he discovered some stuff in his safe had been moved around, insurance papers, information on stocks he owns, and even his will was in a new place. I guess he didn’t think much of it; he was too caught up in the cheating mess, till a lawyer's office called the house like a week later and left a message saying they needed to come in and sign the last paper. Lisa had either made a copy of his signature or forged it and was trying to put things in her name and change his will for her to inherit even if they weren’t married. He called Sam because he needed legal help to straighten the mess up and make sure she got nothing.

Sam went down one weekend and helped him clean it up. They were looking up something on Dean’s laptop and one of them typed in a wrong word or start of one and some crazy past searches came up. They looked for more and found searches relating to Dean and what he owns, what his business was worth. There was even a search on how to fake a pregnancy test. Sam thinks she was going to try and trick Dean into marrying her if she couldn’t change the papers on her own. She was stupid enough to use Dean’s computer. His parents don’t know, he doesn’t want them too.”

“The first night I met Dean I called him by his last name and he asked something about how I knew and if I looked him up. I get why now.”

“Dean’s a lot more guarded now.” She gave you a lot of information to take in, no wonder he wasn’t looking to date again.

The next afternoon a commotion in the hall drew your attention. Opening the door you found Sam and Dean struggling with some boxes they were both carrying across the hall. You asked if they needed help, but neither heard you over Sam complaining about Dean not knowing how to pack a box. Dean was in turn instructing Sam to be careful with the valuables. Seeing you just before he turned inside Dean gave you a wink and said he would talk to you later.

A few hours later a knock at the door had you hoping for a green eyed man on the other side. Opening it you had gotten your wish. “Hey, I was heading out to grab some dinner. Give Sam and Jess some time together, thought I’d see if you wanted to join me?”

“I actually have lasagna in the oven, it should be done in 20. Would you like to join me here?”

Dean’s eyes lit up at the thought of a homemade meal and he readily accepted. Entering your apartment he removed his coat and asked if he could help with anything. Handing him the drink he asked for, you told him everything was all set. Salad was made and the pasta and bread were in the oven. You washed some dishes while waiting and Dean grabbed a towel to help dry. The two of you working together easily and talking about Dean’s trip back to Kansas. When dinner was ready you dished it up setting Dean’s infront of him. You noticed he wasn’t a big fan of the salad though.

“This is great, my mom isn’t much of a cook so it’s simple meals or take out at their house. Sam and Jess cook, but it’s not real food. He gets these plant or veggie burgers, kale and some green shakes. I need real meat and carbs.”

“Well, you are welcome to stop over here when it gets to be too much. I’m sure I could find something that would save you.”

“Thanks sweetheart, I may take you up on that.”

When you were both finished and everything was cleaned you invited Dean to stay and watch a movie. It was to give Sam and Jess more time alone you told yourself. Dean was just a friend, you were hanging out with.

A short time later your oven timer went off again and you disappeared to pull out the desert you had made. Grabbing some ice cream from the freezer and cutting into the hot treat you once again plated it up and took some to Dean warning him it was still hot. You didn’t think Dean’s eyes could go any bigger than they did when you handed him the fresh baked apple pie. Taking a giant bite his eyes almost rolled back in his head.

“This is incredible, one of the best I’ve ever had. Trust me I’ve had a lot of pie.”

“I’m sure it’s not really that special, but thanks anyways.”

“No, I’m serious. Love me some apple.”

“Fall is a good time for apples here. I would love to go to the orchard some time and pick my own, or even just hang out there one day. I’ve gone a few times as a kid, but I haven’t been in years.”

“You just want to go hang out with apple trees?”

“Not exactly, there is a lot to do this time of year. Apple picking, pumpkin patches, corn maze, hayrides and a store where they sell baked goods, fresh produce and other things. I just think it would be fun sometime. Maybe next year, I’ll find someone to go with me.”

“Tell you what, you pick a weekend next year and I’ll go with you. Speaking of weekends, do you have anything going on next Saturday?”

“Um, a baby shower for a friend in the early afternoon. Then catching up on some work around here, why?”

“One of Jess’ friends is having a big Halloween party, she invited me in hopes of getting Sam to lighten up about it. He’s not a fan of Halloween. Anyway she said I could bring a friend if you want to go. It’s a costume party in some old barn.”

You thought about it for a minute. Was he asking you out, neither of you were supposed to be looking to date right now. He did say bring a friend though. “I think I can manage that, I’ll have to see if I have a costume.”

“Great! I think she said it starts at 8, there’s supposed to be some haunted woods too. Not a corn maze, but it can still be fun. I’ll let you know what time she wants to leave, you don’t care if we ride together right?”

“Nope, not at all.” At least if you were with his brother and Jess it wasn’t a date. Why were you so worried anyway? Dean left a short time later and you cleaned up and got ready for bed.

The new girl you were training, Anna was finally starting to catch on in her second week. This meant you were able to get more of your work done, and not have to stay too late. You needed to find a costume and a baby gift sometime before Saturday. Running into Jess in the hall one night, you asked if you needed to bring anything Saturday. There wasn’t anything, and she was just happy that you were joining them.

Since you had just over a week until Halloween many of the costumes were already picked over, you weren’t looking to meet up with anyone so you were also trying to avoid anything too revealing. Plus it was outside in the evening, and temps were falling so you didn’t want to freeze either. Finally finding something you deemed would work at the third store you tried.

Saturday came faster than you had hoped. The shower went well, Kelly was so excited to meet her little boy in a few short months. You couldn’t wait to spoil him! Doing a quick grocery store run, you headed home to try and clean a little before you had to get ready. When 7:30 rolled around you were ready for the knock on your door.

Opening the door you bit back a laugh at the sight before you, “Howdy Sheriff.”

Dean shook his head sending you a fake smile, “This was one of the few adult costumes left.”

“That’s what you get for waiting till yesterday to get your outfit Dean,” Sam rolled his eyes, also trying not to laugh at his brother’s attire. He and Jess were dressed as Sandy and Danny from Greece.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I had this awesome Batman costume, but it’s in one of the boxes in storage and couldn't find it. Oh well, cowboys are awesome too.”

“Yeah, but Dean you're a toy cowboy,” Sam wasn’t able to hide the smile that time.

He sent Sam a glare before turning back to you, “I’m still a cowboy and a sheriff, I can still protect the princess here. All ready?”

“Yep, I’m good to go.”

You rode in the back with Jess, Dean pouting up front because Sam decided to take his own car instead of riding in Dean’s. Jess was telling you Sam didn’t want to dress up at all, but she was able to talk him into Danny since it was his own clothes except for the leather jacket and just some hair dye and gel.

Arriving at Jess’ friends you and Dean followed behind as they led the way to the barn. They had definitely put a lot of work into the decorations. There were pumpkins and jack-o’-lanterns everywhere. Some real, some plastic and other scary Halloween creatures along with orange lights strung all around.

There was a dance floor with the DJ already playing and round tables and chairs set up around the floor and a buffet in the back.

You had never been to a Halloween party this big before. Jess introduced you and Dean to some of her friends who Sam already knew. Dean grabbed the two of you drinks and you sat down at a table taking everything in. This was a little more than you were expecting.

Sam found you a short time later, Jess was ready to go through the haunted woods they had set up and wanted to know if you two wanted to join.

“I’m game. How about you, Y/N? Sheriff Dean will protect you.”

“Who can turn that down?” Scary things weren’t your favorite, but you had a feeling if you said no Dean wouldn’t have gone either and you didn’t want him to miss out. Justin had hated how some things would scare you, and you wouldn’t want to do something. According to him you would ruin his fun, you weren’t going to do that to Dean. If you were with the three of them it shouldn’t be too bad.

Wrong, wrong, oh so wrong! You were going to have nightmares for a month after that. Most of the actors scaring you had come from the front or side, so you had ended up in the back hiding behind Dean to avoid everyone. Jess had turned around to say something to you when you noticed her eyes getting bigger. Quickly turning around you were certain they could have heard your scream in Ohio. There was a creepy looking person behind you wearing a mask with a white face, green teeth and red eyes holding a giant knife above your head. You never heard him come up or had any idea he was following you.

Hearing you scream Dean turned and pulled you close to his chest and then turned the two of you back around so you were no longer facing that character. He kept you close until you were out of the woods. When you went back to the barn he took you over to your seat before grabbing you some water. Kneeling down in front of you, his green eyes carefully looking you over.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m great.”

“You want to try that again? Especially since you are still shaking?

“I’m really sorry. I’m not the biggest fan of scary things. That really caught me off guard.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want to ruin it for anyone else. I’ll be fine, really.”

“Sweetheart, we need to work on your communication skills. First that bar, now this. If something is going to affect you like this, you gotta say something.”

“I’m okay, really. Sorry to ruin it.”

“You didn’t ruin anything. Sit here a minute I’ll be back.” Dean walked off coming back a few minutes later with some food for both of you.

Sitting next to Dean you stared at the plate he put in front of you before talking.

“Justin took me to Cedar Point one day with some friends of his, all other couples. I’m terrified of heights and dropping too, he knew this beforehand. I’m more of a spin me girl, as long as it’s not too far off the ground. They were all excited about going on the biggest coaster there, I told them I would watch everyone’s stuff while they went. This one takes your picture on the way down, one of the girls said if I wasn’t there some stranger would be in the picture with all of them. Justin took me aside and said when I don’t participate in these things it makes him look bad and ruins his good time. I should be a better girlfriend and do what he wants.”

“I would really like to introduce your ex to my fist. If something is bothering you, I really want you to speak up, no matter what, okay.”

“Okay, thanks Dean.”

When Sam and Jess caught back up to you, she pulled you out to the dance floor with her since her fiancé wasn’t interested. The guys watched as the two of you enjoyed yourselves.

Arriving back at your apartment that night, Dean followed you in to make sure you were going to be alright. You assured him you would be fine. What you didn’t tell him was you were going to be sleeping with the lights on tonight. He did a quick check of your apartment before going back across the hall.

Halloween was the following Friday, Meg invited you over to her and Cas’ place to hang out while they handed out candy to the trick or treaters. Cas had also invited Dean, Sam and Jess. He must have told Dean you were coming because Dean offered to drive you over with them.

The phone in your pocket started going off snapping you out of your daydreams, “Hello.”

“Hey Y/N, are you still home?”

“Yeah, why what’s up Dean?”

“I’ve been knocking on your door for a few minutes now, everything okay?”

“Yeah,” looking down you saw the time on your watch. “I’m sorry I lost track of time. I was sitting on the patio and didn’t hear you.” Rushing inside you locked the door behind you before quickly letting Dean in.

“Sorry, let me grab these and I’m good to go.” Grabbing your Halloween sweatshirt and the two containers sitting on your counter you were headed back to the door.

“What’s in there?”

“Oh I got bored last night and made some Halloween sugar cookies and pumpkin cake bars with apple cider glaze for today.”

Dean just looked at you as you rode the elevator down to meet Sam and Jess, “What is that look for?”

“Well, are you going to give me one?” You were a little lost and just stared back. “Oh sorry, forgot the magic words, trick or treat. May I have my treat now?” He asked, pointing to the containers.

“Oh sorry, sure, the bars are a little crumbly, but you can have a cookie now.

He took a big bite of the orange pumpkin shaped cookie. “It’s not your apple pie, but it’s very good, sweetheart.”

The guys disappeared into the basement when you arrived, apparently there was some horror movie marathon on, you were just fine avoiding that. You three ladies hung out in the living room so you would hear kids coming to the door, and watched the Halloweentown movies on TV. Meg and Jess compared wedding notes and talked about their different frustrations. Jess and Sam were getting married in July.

You were happy for your friends, but if you were being honest, also a little jealous. They had found great guys, been with them for years, now they were getting ready to walk down the aisle to them. You had thought by the time you were 27 you would be settling down too. Instead you were swearing off dating right now. Your Mr Right seems to have taken some wrong turns somewhere and wouldn’t ask for directions. Apparently you zoned out from the conversation because both girls were looking at you. “Sorry, what’s up?”

“I was saying I’m not sure I would be cut out for the matron of honor duties when you get married. We all know I don’t have the patience. You could have Jess, and we know Sam would be the best man, it would work out great.”

Yep, you definitely missed something. “Wait, when and who am I marrying, and why is Sam already the best man?”

“Really Y/N?” Meg giving you her best bitch face, “when you and Dean get married.”

“You guys make such a great couple! I’m so glad he found you! Lisa was just awful to him from the start, and to cheat on him like that.”

Lisa must be the reason he left Kansas, no one mentioned her name before. “Guys we’re just friends, we aren’t a couple or even dating. Neither one of us want to get back out there right now.”

“Y/N, you can’t let Justin ruin your chance at happiness, it’s been over four months now. At some point you need to get back out there. Deano is one of the good ones, you are going to regret it if you let him go.”

“Meg, Dean doesn’t want to date anyone either. We really are just friends, just hanging out.”

When you walked away to hand out candy, Meg turned to Jess, “any idea how long those two are going to stay in denial about how they feel?” Jess just shook her head as they both stared after you.

Part 3

Thank you for reading!

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#dean x female reader #dean winchester #supernatural #FallingForYou #dean x reader

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hen-of-letters · 3 years

Text

Series 15 gives all of the characters you could ever care about their worst possible endings, but presents these endings as somehow good or satisfying or acceptable. Here's a list.

The short version: they're Chuck's endings, and Chuck is a bad writer.

None of the characters can escape the fate set out for them or break the cycle of trauma begun by Chuck. The show itself doesn't even realise how truly awful these endings are - it dresses up a tragedy in pie gags and pretty colours and calls it a happy ending. And in order to inflict these worst possible endings on its characters, the narrative has to be twisted and contorted in the most absurd of ways.

So, onto the list:

Adam: Forgotten and left to languish in the pit, he's finally freed, only to suffer an anticlimactic offscreen death and be forgotten again. Michael, his only companion for so long, is also killed off. In the finale, blood family seems to be all that matters - and yet he isn't mentioned.

Alternate Kaia: She helps rescue Kaia from the Bad Place, but chooses to remain there to face certain destruction rather than return to earth with Kaia, Dean and Sam. This world is so hostile to her that death is preferable. Her horrible, pointless death stands as a powerful statement about the real harm caused by exclusion, but the text doesn't seem to acknowledge the full horror of this. Her death isn't remarked upon; it seems to suggest that both Kaia and her double are returned to their rightful places. It's just one example of the show creating awful endings without seeming to understand how awful they truly are. (I rant a lot more about Alternate Kaia here.)

Amara: After being betrayed and locked away for millennia, we see Amara's initial impulse for revenge and destruction transform into an admiration for creation. She becomes an advocate for humanity and the world. And yet she ends up being betrayed (by both the Winchesters and Chuck) and locked away again. She's absorbed by Chuck in a way that doesn't fit within the logic of the show. Chuck and Amara are equals - it doesn't make any sense that Chuck could overpower her. Wouldn't they become a blend of the two of them? And, since their separation caused the Big Bang, wouldn't their unity end the world? Anyway, having the cosmic feminine be voiceless and invisible is the worst way for Amara's story to end. Having Jack speak for her, saying that they are 'in harmony' tries to make this an acceptable fate for her, but only makes it worse.

Benny: Another offscreen death, and this one feels particularly spiteful. It really seems like he was killed just to be a conversation-starter for Cas and Dean. However, if his fate can be sealed by a line of dialogue, then it only proves that confirmation of the fates of Eileen, AU Charlie and the other hunters could have been given in the same way. Just one line could have done it - "I just spoke to Eileen, everyone's back." Instead, at the end of 15.19 we're in the absurd position of having Sam and Dean toast the people they've lost without them even bothering to check who that may or not be.

Billie: The bizarre thing about Billie being revealed as a villain at the end of Season 15 was that she was supposed to be acting in self-interest - that she wanted to be the new God. It made no sense. What would make sense to me, though, would be if Chuck was controlling her (as Lucifer bound Death in Season 5). Season 15 has strong echoes of Season 4 - and Billie took on both the role of Ruby (feeding Jack hearts rather than demon blood, but nevertheless making him into a weapon, with the price being the loss of his sense of self and ultimately his life) and Heaven (persuading Dean that it had to be this way, and telling him to go along with the plan). We only have the Shadow's word for Billie's motivation, and we know she wasn't responsible for the deaths of the AU hunters, so in the end her status is ambiguous - she really seems to be a victim of Chuck's bad writing. She's erased from the narrative along with Castiel, when really she should have been freed from Chuck's control and fighting on the side of nature and free will alongside the Winchesters. Supernatural also concludes with nobody in the role of Death, which is a crazy loose thread left dangling.

Castiel: His confession was a thing of beauty, perfectly summing up the truth of both his and Dean's characters. Both of them are made of and motivated by love. And yet after speaking his truth, he is silenced. He never gets to hear that he is loved in return (when the previous twelve seasons have made it abundantly clear to the audience that Dean loves Cas just as much as Cas loves Dean). His capacity for love made him the only thing that Chuck could not control; as an agent of free will, he should have had a central role in Chuck's defeat.

In 15x13, when Cas is in the Empty to see Ruby, the Shadow says: "funny thing about [Death's] plan, though... she didn't say anything about needing you. Baby, you can't just traipse in and out of here. It upsets the order of things." To me, this sounded so much like 4x22's "you're not in this story" that I saw it as a pretty clear indication that Cas would play an important part in Chuck's defeat. Because Team Free Will wouldn't follow the plan, would they? They would find another way, wouldn't they? Wouldn't they?

However, after the confession, he's never seen on screen again. He's barely mentioned. Eventually we're told he "helped" Jack, so he ends up where he started: as a servant of heaven. He deserved to complete his fall, to become human, to live as well as speak his truth. Making him a silent, unseen instrument of heaven undoes his entire arc. Erasing him from the narrative requires the extraordinary warping of that narrative: nothing about his death suggests that it should be accepted as a permanent 'sacrifice', when we know that there is a spell that can return angels from the Empty (and, thanks to the handprint, we have his blood for it) and that Lucifer was brought back by Chuck in 15x19. And the idea that Sam, Jack and Dean wouldn't try everything in their power to bring him back is utterly ludicrous.

Cas' confession scene to so closely mirrors 4x01's barn scene that the narrative is crying out for the parallel to be completed by Dean rescuing Cas from the Empty just as Cas rescued Dean from hell. However, we're never given that narrative closure - just like we are never given the reunions demanded by the scenes of Sam losing Eileen and Charlie losing Stevie.

Chuck: Okay, so he might not make your list of characters you could ever care about, but my point about his ending is that while it's fitting, for it to really work we also needed Cas to become human, too. For Chuck, being human is a punishment, but for Cas it would be a reward. We really needed this balance, otherwise all we have is humanity as the worst thing that could happen to you, which is not exactly a great parting message for the show. (Also, how precisely is it possible to make him human?) Not only is being human the worst fate possible, but, specifically, so is growing old and being forgotten. Again, this is a punishment for Chuck, but it would have been a reward for Dean: growing old when the story (and his own self-loathing) constantly told him that he would die young; and being forgotten, not in a negative sense, but in terms of not being a character in a story any more: remembered fondly by his friends but no longer a legend, just a man living an insignificant little life exactly the way he chooses.

Dean: Where do I even start. Let's be clear: ending the story with his death (by any means and in any scenario) was always going to be the absolute worst possible ending for him and for the show.

In 15x19 we have the glorious moment when Chuck calls him the ultimate killer, and Dean (heeding Cas' words from 15x18) says "that's not who I am". Now, I mean no disrespect to Dean here (because he is, canonically, a genius) but I don't think that he was in any way necessary to the Michael double-cross plot that eventually saw the defeat of Chuck. Honestly, if he had died in 15x18, then 15x19 could still have played out in exactly the same way. It's as if he wasn't saved so that he could save the world - he was saved so that he could have this moment of self-realisation. He was saved so that he could stand up to Chuck (God, and the author, and parallelled with John) and tell him that he's not the person that he tried to force him to be.

And yet by the next episode, this revelation is entirely forgotten. He doesn't get to continue his self-actualisation by speaking his truth to Cas. Instead, 15x20 presents Dean as almost a caricature of himself. Dean loves pie. Dean loves his brother. Dean loves his car. All of his complexity (present right from Season 1) is stripped away.

Finally free to write his own story, he ends up giving Chuck the ending he always wanted: one dead Winchester - killed, you could argue, by his brother (Sam fails to call for help and instead tells Dean to "go".) Told by Cas that he's not "Daddy's blunt instrument" and accepting that he's not "the ultimate killer", Dean goes right back to killing (even threatening torture) and following his father's words (in the form of the journal).

For Dean to die exactly as the story has always told him, and as he's always told himself in his worst moments of self loathing, is brutal and tragic. What makes it truly appalling is the way in which both Dean and Sam accept his death and say it's "okay". For Dean to say "always keep fighting" at the very moment when he gives up and when Sam gives up on him is bitterly ironic. (Interestingly, when Cas said "you have to keep fighting" in his 12x12 death speech, exhorting Sam and Dean to save themselves and leave him behind, Sam replied with "we are fighting. We're fighting for you, Cas" and Dean followed with "and like you said, you're family. And we don't leave family behind".)

Dean has always been the symbol of humanity in Supernatural: he stood for earth against the forces of heaven and hell. He'd rather live with pain and guilt than exist as a "Stepford bitch in paradise", and yet that's exactly what he becomes, driving mindlessly through Jack's new heaven where everyone is "happy". Dean previously dismissed heaven's happiness as "Memorex", and after Mary's death he was the only one not consoled by the confirmation that she was in heaven and happy. Having Dean being content in heaven is utterly out of character. He's always fought for free will, and in heaven - where there's no agency, where he's cut off from the world - this is the one thing that he does not have.

Eileen: An interesting, complex, kickass character, Eileen deserved so much better than being erased from the storyline. A Men of Letters legacy, I imagine her working with Sam to share the knowledge contained within the bunker whilst also dismantling the patriarchy, elitism and colonialism of its past. Her disappearance from the narrative makes absolutely no sense - 15x09, 15x17 and 15x18 confirm just how significant she is to Sam, and yet we never see them reunited or see Sam mourning her death. The audience's love for Eileen is totally disregarded, too - she's ripped away from us with no further explanation.

Emma: Okay, so she wasn't actually in season 15, but that's sort of my point. I have a lot to say about Emma, but here I'll just say that her significance has grown massively since Season 7. The narrative has shifted from Team Free Will being sons to being fathers. Even if she wasn't brought back, just a mention of her would have been significant. (I can't stop thinking about the massive potential of a conversation about Emma between Dean and Jack.) She didn't deserve to be forgotten.

Season 15 was Supernatural's last opportunity to bring back characters from the past - such as Meg, original Charlie, Crowley, and Bela Talbot - and give them better endings. Sadly this opportunity was wasted.

Garth: He actually seems to get his happy ending, on several levels. He finds a family; he finds happiness; he's acknowledged as a hero by the Winchesters, who had previously mocked him. Dean's words to him about embracing happiness are powerful. Garth lives as his full, authentic self - monstrosity now included. It's that monstrosity that's the issue here, though - as werewolves, Garth, Bess and little Sam and Castiel are doomed to go to purgatory when they die. Mia Vallens said to Jack that "it doesn't matter what you are - it matters what you do", but in this case the opposite is true. It's hideously unfair, but again the show never acknowledges this. It would have been simple to change in a line or two - just a quick mention about how purgatory has been fixed, so that only truly monstrous beasts like the leviathan are kept trapped there - but the injustice remains.

Jack: From his birth, his destiny was either to be the monstrous destroyer or the divine saviour of the world, which is precisely why he should have side-stepped it and found another way. He deserved to live without the weight of the world on his shoulders. Instead, he was forced to take on the power of God - and since when has someone suddenly taking on a huge amount of power ever ended well for Team Free Will? Then, he repeats the exact same pattern set up by Chuck. First, he abandons his creation by walking away and disappearing off to, in the words of Bobby, "wherever he went". Like Chuck, he ignores earthly suffering: if he's now omniscient and omnipotent, is he in fact complicit in Dean's death? Secondly, he's controlling: he remodels Heaven as he sees fit, making it a place where everyone's together and everyone's happy, with its inhabitants given absolutely no choice in the matter. There's also no reason why Jack had to vanish from the story - Chuck was capable of spending time on Earth.

The mechanics of the bomb plot also irks me no end. We're told by Death that the bomb will kill Jack. However, their plan fails, and Jack survives the blast. In 15x19, Dean tells Chuck that all the work done to turn Jack into a "cosmic bomb" has turned him instead into a "power vacuum." It makes it seem like a side-effect, and also that "sucking up bits of power" has been charging him up to the point where he's "unstoppable". He's able to both absorb and appropriate Chuck's power. However, in 15x17 Adam and Serafina explain that the bomb will create a "metaphysical supernova" that will make Jack into "a living black hole for divine energy" - which suggests that, actually, the bomb worked as intended.

But if the plan worked, why is Jack still alive? Billie made it clear that Jack wouldn't survive. And "nothing can escape" a black hole - so how is Jack able to use Chuck's powers to bring back Earth's population? Besides which, didn't 15x17 reveal that Chuck himself had "orchestrated" the entire thing? Which makes the theory that Chuck possessed Jack really the only outcome that makes sense. (Particularly as Serafina talks about Jack making his "vessel" strong. Jack is a nephil, not an angel - he has a body, not a vessel. Also, the bomb is made by fusing his soul with his grace - so, the two things that make up Jack, his humanity and his divinity, are annihilated.) Deliberately making Chuck win, however (with no tease at the end that this might be the case), makes no sense either. My head hurts.

Kevin: As if he hadn't been treated badly enough by the story already, we find that Kevin hasn't been in Heaven since we last saw him, but rather hell. He ends up as an untethered ghost, presumably just wandering about for all eternity. His fate comes courtesy of a bizarre new rule that souls from hell can't go to heaven - when previously both Bobby and John have done exactly that. Again, just one line telling us that he's now in heaven could have changed his ending.

Michael: Bringing back Adam and Michael was a brilliant move, and this version of Michael was utterly compelling - struggling with his faith in his father after being abandoned, torn between his loyalty to Heaven and his relationship with Adam. I thought that his handing over of the spell was very similar to Cas' "just so you understand … why I can't help" moment, and it seemed the precursor to Michael becoming an advocate for humanity, even a member of Team Free Will. However, instead Michael was doomed to play out his father's narrative: killing his brother and repeating the cycle of sibling conflict and trauma that Chuck began when he betrayed Amara. (And we'll credit Chuck's bad writing with the fact that the battle between Michael and Lucifer that was once predicted to wipe out millions and scorch the globe can now happen in the bunker without so much as a chair being knocked over - and without wires as well.)

Rowena: She seems to be relishing her reign as Queen of Hell, but the way she's so casually condemned is jarring. Surely her previous good deeds and her final act of self sacrifice would be enough to tip the scales in a heavenly direction? (It worked for Lily Sunder - another woman who vowed never to be powerless again.) They could easily have said it was Chuck's fault that she had to remain in hell - but instead it just seems like a foregone conclusion. She deserved better.

Sam: If we're supposed to believe that having a "normal" life is Sam's idea of writing his own story, why doesn't he do it as soon as Chuck is defeated? Instead, his suburban "apple pie" life only happens after Dean dies, which makes it seem more of a grief arc than a happy ending. (Just as he escaped into a self-professed "fantasy" life with Amelia after Dean's death, or when he succumbed to the comfort of a fake married life in Charming Acres after the trauma of losing all the AU hunters).

The idea that he'd keep hunting for Dean doesn't ring true - Dean had been the one openly craving retirement and domesticity for several seasons. After all, the idea of Dean as a hunter and Sam as the brother who wants to be normal is Chuck's story. Dean wasn't the "ultimate killer" that Chuck wanted him to be, and Sam too had been forging his own identity as a leader, a Man of Letters, and a powerful witch. He'd also found love - and with Eileen, he could be his full, authentic self. The idea that he would leave her is absurd, as is the idea that he would abandon his entire extended found family, who seem to have no part in his new life. When Dean returned from purgatory, he was furious that Sam had failed to help Kevin. Would Sam really do the exact same thing again - walk away from Jody and the girls when they are mourning both Cas and Dean and need his support? Would he just abandon Rowena's entire witchy collection and leave the huge store of knowledge in the Bunker locked up in the dark?

The Shadow: again, dubious on a list of characters you care about, but hey - all they ever really wanted was to go back to sleep, and can't we all relate to that? Anyway, they made the list for being one of the most frustrating open endings of the show. What did it mean for the Empty to be "loud"? Who is the Shadow, anyway? Just how did this cosmic entity fit in with the mythology of Chuck and Amara? It's maddening that the Shadow and the Empty were made central to several seasons only to be suddenly dropped.

The Wayward Sisters: my beloveds. Such a brilliant cast of characters and such wasted potential. They're an important part of the Winchesters' family and Team Free Will, but, in the end, they're forgotten. Claire may have gotten her happy ending with the return of Kaia, but this happens off screen. We never see her reaction to the deaths of Castiel or Dean.

The final few episodes seem to be about stripping away all of the characters except Sam and Dean, so they are completely alone by 15x20. Phrases such as "just us" and "just you and me" and "it's always been you and me" seem to suggest that this is a good thing, but previously the idea of them being isolated and alone has seemed like the worst case scenario (for example in Season 8, when Sam and Dean are forced to give up Amelia and Benny, respectively, or in Chuck's vision of a future in which the brothers lose Eileen and Cas along with Jody and the girls, give up hope, and end up as vampires, killed by their remaining friends).

Anyway, the whole idea of just Sam and Dean going wherever the road takes them is Chuck's story. It's on the cover of his books. By making Chuck the villain, Season 15 itself makes it impossible for a return to this idea to be a satisfying conclusion to the story.

In fact, Supernatural was never about just Sam and Dean. It was always about family. Season 1 was about Sam, Dean and John. Bobby introduced the phrase "family don't end with blood" in Season 3 and Dean coined the phrase "Team Free Will" in Season 4. It's an ethos that has spread into the fandom, too. Didn't the SPN Family deserve a finale that celebrated that idea, of banding together, of caring about the whole world, of love being the ultimate expression of free will?

You can't help but pick up on a theme: characters that were forgotten are forgotten again. Characters who were locked away are locked away again. The same narratives and the same traumas play out again and again. No-one escapes their miserable, predestined fate. It's Chuck's ending. And it's Chuck's spiteful ending.

It's the ending that kills off its beloved characters, and also destroys their whole world. The bunker is left in darkness. Time has moved forward by so much in order to accommodate Sam's natural death that we can't even imagine the ongoing stories of other characters like Garth or the Sioux Falls family (ironic, given the episode's title).

It's the kind of ending you get when a show is cancelled and the writer decides to kill off their characters and wreck their world so that there's no possibility of another network or another writer taking over their story. (And yet outside of the show, there's no evidence to suggest this - you would think that the ending had been designed to make a reboot impossible, but it has already been talked about.)

If we were not going to get a sense of the world continuing, then we could have been given a more radical and satisfying ending. We could have had Death collect on their promise to one day reap God. We could have had a world freed from the supernatural entirely: heaven, hell and purgatory obliterated, and Team Free Will finding peace in life on earth.

Because Chuck has been the author and the narrator the entire time, it makes no sense for the story to continue past the point of his defeat. (It makes even less sense for that story to revert back to Chuck's ideal narrative.) So, really we should have been given a more open ending: Team Free Will triumphant over Chuck and their future left open, the author dead and the characters' stories entrusted to the audience.

Instead, in the end, it's a bizarre mix of needlessly closed-down endings (killing off Cas, Sam and Dean, and vanishing Jack) and frustrating open ones (the loud Empty, there being no Death, Kevin wandering, the ambiguous fate of Eileen, Adam, Donna and the AU hunters).

And the final two episodes are also objectively bad. The double-cross plot in 15x19 is lame when the resolution of the Chuck storyline should have been profound. (It invites comparisons with the Season 11 finale, which was excellent.) 15x20 feels weirdly empty and flat. Dean's death is unrealistic; it echoes Sam's death in Season 2 and Dean's in Season 9 (which, if you think about it, would only be possible if Chuck was still writing it), but lacks the emotional punch of either. Dean's "I'm proud of us," in his Season 9 death scene is so much more powerful than his "I'm proud of you" in the finale. And let's not even mention that wig.

In conclusion: every single character deserved better. The actors deserved better. The audience deserved better. Because the ending we were given was not the ending that the season, or the entire series, had been building towards.

The ending tries to destroy every good thing that Supernatural has ever given us - vibrant characters, the fight for free will, the value of found family, the power of love - but it fails. Ultimately the characters and themes are too powerful to be contained by that terrible, flimsy ending. So now I've gotten all of that off my chest, I'm going right back to finale denialism.

#so I've been compiling this list for quite a while and now seems as good a time as any to get it off my chest #it's also the checklist for the fix-it I'm writing so really I should go and work on that #supernatural #spn #spn 15x20 #spn 15.20 #tw dean's death

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